Samurai Jack and the Dome of Doom
by Thegreatestthereeverwillbe
Summary: The story retells the events of S2E3 for an adult audience. It is written in the son of the founder of the Dome of Doom's perspective. He was there when Jack fought and he's been vengeful against Jack and bent on killing him ever since. In a bid to realize his dream, he displays his knowledge on Jack to convince the academy to train him in combat so that he can kill Samurai Jack.


**DISCLAIMER**

 _Unsuitable for those under the age of 18. The views expressed here are entirely fictional and not representative of the author's own ideas or beliefs, but of the fictional character presented._

27 Akustus 2099 AA

97 Aku Way  
Akutropolis  
AK12HZ

Prometheus Augustus' Personal Statement for Admission into the Academy of Extraordinary Assassins  
Classification: Samurai Assassin

Selected Target: Samurai Jack

To the Academy of Extraordinary Assassins,

My name is Prometheus Augustus. This is not the name I was given, but rather, a pseudonym I have taken for myself after the tragic events of 27 Akustus 2082 AA- the night the Dome of Doom fell victim to a terrorist attack at the hands of the rogue citizen 'Samurai Jack'. A man who single handedly caused so much pain and misfortune to our village that it ceased to exist. This man is a blight on our society, and is a danger to our citizenry, and his villainy cannot continue, but it shall persist so long as he draws breath. He is a man whose existence represents defiance against our lord Aku, and this defiance is unjustified. Under Aku we, our forefathers, and their forefathers all lived peacefully and happily. Until this savage came and posed a threat to our way of life, we knew not the meaning of suffering. This outsider thinks that his quest is more important than all of our livelihoods, and in that he is mistaken. Perhaps he thinks his quest will elevate our standard of living, but how can this be when his actions bring us all under ruination? In the interest of ridding the world of this criminal, I seek entry into your esteemed institution to train as an assassin capable of ending this insignificant wretch's time on this world.

But why do I harbor these ill-feelings towards a man I have never actually conversed with? Because I have conversed with the consequences of his actions. Something I know he has never done. He destroys and leaves us to care for the destruction he leaves in his wake. Simultaneously, he leaves false hope in the hearts of youngsters too young to see his villainous nature.

I have a vendetta against Samurai Jack. I hate him. I hate him with a passion. I want to slaughter him. I want to show his corpse to his mother and see her weep over her lost son, then I want to enslave her and give her an elixir of eternal life that she may never reunite with him. I want to suspend him on the wall and have him watch as I violate his sisters. I want to have his eyes weep as I destroy his home again and again, piece by piece, brick by brick. I want his father to be forced to commit suicide for a thousand generations. I want them both to see me dominate his mother again and again and be powerless to stop me. I want her to beg for mercy as I shovel shit into her mouth and semen into her anus. I _despise_ him. But, he fascinates me. He fascinates me to the point beyond hatred. How can a man with nothing but a sword defy the Shogun of Sorrow? How can man armored with nothing but a kimono stand against an entire world? His was a case to be studied, and nothing made me study him more than the story that I am about to write to you.

In a bid to have the institution empathize with me, I shall do what I have sworn never to do. I shall reveal my identity to you. I am the son of Examus- Lord of the Dome of Doom. He was its founder, and indeed he was its sustainer. It was the sword of Samurai Jack that put an end to my father, and thus an end to the dome, and thus an end to our village. I implore you to fail to disclose this information outside of your hallowed walls lest _he_ come searching for me. In this paper, I shall tell the story of how the dome came down as I saw it. Then my motivation for _killing_ this man shall be transparent for all to see.

After this event, I have studied him closely. I have watched his every move. I have read his every encounter. I have filtered the real from the false; the rumor from the mistruth; the propaganda from the archival! I _know_ him, but my advantage is he doesn't know me. He will not remember me. It was a lifetime ago that he saw me, but I have observed him for a lifetime. The advantage is with me, not with him, and if I am trained by the academy I shall be in a superior position to rid this world of this terrorist swine!

It happened within three days. On 24 Akustus 2082 I was but a boy. On that day my vengeful passion to obliterate Samurai Jack began. It is this day, not the day I was biologically born, that I celebrate as the day of my birth. The day I earned purpose. On that day I had not a single strand of hair on my face. I was a jubilant boy. I enjoyed playing the fields with my friends. One day we decided to play catch and my friend tossed the ball over my head to a hill. As I ran to pick it up I heard the clicks and clacks of wooden sandals. I knew who it must be, but I had to peer over the hill to be sure. Indeed it was him- Samurai Jack. I knew because of his distinctive white robe and top-knot. He walked calmly into the woods that led to my village. My father warned me of interacting with him, and I heeded his words. He told me of the many men he had cut down in the past, and I did not want to be among them. So I did what any boy would do. I took out my phone and snapped an image of him. I tried to be quiet about it too. I hid beneath the hill the instant I snapped it, and what a wise decision that was. The clicks and clacks came to a halt and I felt his gaze glanced over me. I was nervous at the time, but I maintained my silence. The eeriness of the situation was broken by the unlikeliest of things- a yawn. _His_ yawn. He was tired. I deduced that he was heading into the woods to rest in the darkness of the canopy of leaves overhead. It was a chance not to be missed! I sent the image to my father imploring him to send men to capture him and bring him to the doom. What a sight that would be! The Dome of Doom- _with Samurai Jack_ as a contender! We would bring such joy to the community and much needed coinage to line our pockets! My father reacted with even more zealous glee than I had! He sent over two of our men to reach out to him. I raced over to my friends when I was sure _he_ couldn't hear me and explained the situation to them. They agreed to be silent as we observed the capture of Samurai Jack.

The Samurai walked for a few meters until he finally rested at a tree. He yawned again and placed the sword between his sandals. He curled himself into a ball and closed his eyes periodically opening them from time to time to see if any danger was about. I sent the geolocation to my father who at my behest sent it to the men en-route. We waited there, behind the trees, with restless anxiety to see what would be of the men my father sent.

My friends were avid watchers of the gladiatorial fights. Their parents too. One of my friends was the son of a woodcutter. He was not a wealthy man, his father, but thankfully the boy was his only son and so they lived comfortably. Each weekend they would come to the dome to let off some steam. The champions were usually enemies of the state or other criminals so their lives meant little to us. They had chosen this path, and they must now pay the price. What wrong is there for these men who have brought suffering to all of us to spend their last hours entertaining us-the wronged party? None. This is the way of things and so it shall remain. My other friend was a poor boy. His father was a failed elixir salesman. He once sold an elixir that was closer to poison than medicine! He nearly killed old woman Garvy. She was a kind-hearted woman. She never favored the dome though. She felt it was too brutish for her tastes. But she did not deny the economic benefits its presence granted. Indeed, before the dome our village was a sleepy town. After my father's investment the dome attracted several restaurants, cafes, hotels, and other businesses which granted a plethora of employment opportunities both within and without the dome. Unfortunately, my friend's father was of the stubborn type and persisted in his elixir trade despite the town's skepticism of his trade. The result was persistent shortages for my friend, and to be honest I pitied the boy. He had done nothing wrong to deserve this. After we had made some money from the dome I petitioned my father to adopt him, and so he did. Now that poor boy is like my brother and I cannot envision my life without him. But now I must, because in destroying the dome Samurai Jack destroyed my relationship with him. Without money to feed him, by law we must return him to his father, and so we did. His father, ever the optimist still lives in our village. He is the sole occupant, but he insists that tomorrow business will flourish again. Fool. That boy is destined to live out his days in poverty firstly because of the criminal, and secondly because of the lunacy of his biological father.

While we waited behind the tree, we prepared a plan B in case the men were defeated. Unlikely, but it does not hurt to plan ahead, we thought. My plan was to flee the area. Of course, at the time I knew not how to fight and I was a coward. I had up to that point lived a sheltered life of comfort and happiness. I had to reason to learn to fight. I was not going to fall into the gladiatorial pit after all! My friends ridiculed me for my cowardice and in hindsight they were right to do so. The woodcutter's son said we should stand and fight- and presumably die- in defense of our home. A noble- but fruitless- endeavor. We stand not a chance of victory against a mass murderer like Samurai Jack. One would need years of training to be able to stand a chance against him. My other friend- my brother- said we should feign ignorance and pretend to have been captors of the dome. Then _we_ would lure him there and arguably to his doom. I liked that plan, even though it involved risking our lives to an infamous stranger, but the very fact that we were not one mile away from him is dangerous in and of itself. It had been agreed. Plan A would be that the men would abduct him normally. Plan B would be for us to abduct him. Plan C would be to flee.

Thankfully Plans B and C were never operationalized. Once the Samurai opened his eyes for the seventh or eighth time, five of our men surrounded him. Before he could even draw his sword, the captain threw the weight of his fist into his rectangular face and brought him to a more prolonged sleep. We giggled and cheered at our victory and asked the men if we could tag along as they transported him and the other prisoners to the dome. They knew who I was, so it was more of a command than a question. We raced to the iron carriage and piled into it. It was a dark carriage with no windows, only three slits for air and light. It was designed to be blast resistant both within and without. However, my father is an environmentalist. He dislikes burning fossil fuels to move machinery so instead, one of the men whips the criminals to move our vehicle forward. The men sat with us in the passenger compartment and we feigned and awed at their ability to capture one of the most notorious criminals in the land as easily as we had just seen. When we piled into the cart we did not expect to get moving so quickly. Indeed, the prisoners were all bound to the machine and unconscious outside. I asked the captain that very question and he said to me that after they installed Jack into his place, one of the men released an electronic charge through the reigns. This increased their pulse and made them come to. I was most fascinated by this and still am. If I were to graduate from the academy I would seek special training in electronic sword fighting. Such a weapon would make the Samurai's sword useless and his attacks futile when met with a charge that would electrocute him every time.

The road to the dome was long and winding. Marching drums beat to incentivize the prisoners to march forward. The beat was most intense as we climbed up the steppe before the dome. That served the purpose of increasing fanfare at the village and exciting the prisoners with encouragement to march further. Thankfully, we caught Jack in the morning which gave us plenty of sunlight to get to the dome. My friends and I played and laughed in the cart until we reached roughly six hours later. We didn't feel a second pass! We knew we'd arrived when dusk approached but the light that poured into our carriage was insufficient for sight. The elixir seller's boy sought to crack open a potion to help us see but the woodcutter's boy and I pleaded with him to hold his hand lest we all die in some fiery explosion or the like. I explained to him that we had arrived, and that a little darkness is not intolerable. Thankfully he listened and I live to write this tale to you today. The great metal doors opened before us and slammed as soon as we'd gotten in sealing us all in the darkness of the dome.

The dome, like the carriage, was lit by sunlight alone- part of father's environmentalism. I shared not his beliefs, but I respected his choice. Resultantly, we saw very little, and that was a good thing. Can you imagine if all the prisoners saw everything around them? Pandemonium! My friends and I lurked in the dark and saw the strange creatures we had imprisoned. Some had tails, others had manes, and others had snouts. They were all sub-human. Except Jack. He was the only man among them. I felt some affinity towards him at the time. After all, he was a human like me, but now I realize that that _thing_ is no more human than a plant. His actions are animalistic and individualistic and tribal, and these are not the traits of civilized men, but of greedy vandals and savage barbarians. The only light that illuminated the room came from beneath the prisoners. This served to distort their vision and their faces so that they might not recognize each other when they fought. I could not see Jack's face from where I stood, only his back. But, I knew from experience that his face was distorted by the light. Indeed the lizard man in front of him had his face distorted. I only wish I had seen Jack's face at that moment. He would have appeared in his true form-the vain, malicious creature we know he is. I remember he tried to say something, but I can't remember what it was. Just as his lips parted, the captain whipped him with his electric lash. What a sight that was! The number one fugitive in the land lashed in the face by our guard! Then, the floors beneath the men began to descend and so darkness ensued for them and for us once more. Tomorrow would be an extraordinary day- Samurai Jack's atonement for his sins through combat!

When day broke a routine medical checkup was in order. I loved accompanying the men on these tasks as it showed me the inner workings of the dome long before the audience came. On that day, my father waived the entrance fee for the fights in celebration of capturing Samurai Jack. We even dedicated the games that day to Aku! Even the elixirman came to see the fights! He was actually one of the first in attendance. I remember I was shocked to see him there too! My brother must have implored him to come. Indeed, he, his son, the men, and I walked over to each of the prisoners and made sure they were in prime fighting condition. We had one of the men- Big Bob instill the fighting spirit within them much to the dismay of the elixir salesman. He swore by Aku that he had an elixir for just that, but we did not want the dome to implode. What Big Bob did was that he had three men restrain the prisoner and he would sexually abuse them before us. It was such an entertaining preview to the combat because we got to see the rage build up in their hearts before our very eyes! When we finally go to Jack he was oddly curled up in the same ball we found him in. Perhaps he had already been defeated I thought, but that thought soured in my mind because I wanted to see him suffer for his crimes. He had to fight. When Big Bob walked into his cell, however, he snapped up in his chains like a rabid dog protecting his territory. He looked right through Bob and for the first time, Bob hesitated to take another step. Shortly thereafter, Bob took that step and found an even more volatile response. He called three of them men to restrain Jack, but Jack's refusal to sit still and violent outbursts forbade us from instilling the warrior's spirit within him. I was glad though, because it showed that he was ready for the fights to come. Bob went about his business with the other prisoners and as I saw them each submit to his will, I began to lose faith in them. I saw in them weak souls. Souls unfit for the dome. In my heart, Jack's warrior spirit inspired me to cheer for him. I did not however approve of his crimes, so I wanted to see him fight valiantly and finally suffer a glorious death in recognition of the glory of the subjects of Aku.

When the hour of combat came, and the applause roared, I sat next to my father in the announcement circle. Ironically, it wasn't even a circle, but rather a pentagon. It was suspended over the ring by a few metal cords. It was the only thing in the arena that was not spherical. Father said it was to pronounce the image of power and dominance over the prisoners. Circles, in his view, were docile shapes. Shapes that meant nothing but subservience to the viewer. I asked him once 'Father, is the planet not circular?' and he said to me 'Yes, and it is subservient to Aku.' I knew then that my father was only loyal to Aku so long as his interests were met. Bringing Jack to his death here- and not at Aku's lair- was an act of defiance on his part. One that Aku in all his might and intellect could not match. If he came and destroyed the Dome and took Jack, not only does he risk public failure, but he risks a fall in popularity among the peasantry who will see their sovereign personally bring an end to an economic boom that has fed them and their children for years as well as brought down the crime rate! Further, Aku's perception has already been tainted by legends-unreliable ones at that- tell us he has failed at defeating Jack before.

One legend foretold that Aku disguised as a woman tried to seduce Jack and when Jack let his guard down tried to impregnate himself at a desert oasis with sons that would go on to defeat Jack, but Jack caught on to this forcing Aku to summon a giant genie who held a green diamond in his forehead. The genie fought Jack and Aku aided to regain Jack's trust which he attained successfully, only to destroy the gem afterwards because it held the power to send Jack back in time. Then Jack forced Aku to flee after brief but vigorous combat. Another tale involves Jack working with the mafia to limit water supply- which in fact is true as it is the only way of explaining how the mafia assumed control of the water supply to begin with which is guarded by the spirits of earth, wind, and fire- but though some inexplicable reason ends up fighting Aku and nearly killing him in his lair. According to the legend, the mob saved Aku, but I find that-and indeed all of these myths- hearsay. Jack has not, cannot, and will not defeat Aku in single combat because Aku is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-hearing, and all-seeing. How can a wooden sandaled robe-wearer wielding a sword defeat a God-Demon!? But the common folk share not my skepticism of such situations. Unfortunate.

Regardless of the shape of our balcony, the view it provided of the dome as astounding. We had the best seats in the arena. Nothing less would suffice for the founder of the dome of dome and reviver of the local economy. A panoramic view from side to side presented itself before us. All the weapons, all the details, lined up in unison to deliver themselves to our pupils that we may examine them with scrutiny throughout the symphonically violent encounters. Father meticulously planned out every detail of the arena. He had poured his life savings into it. Although father was short and fat, he wasn't always this way. Well, he was certainly always short there isn't anything he can do about that, but he grew fat after retiring from a life of adventure. A life rife with the slaughter of breakers of the law. Father believes in nothing less than capital punishment. A man stole a melon? Death. A woman kidnapped a baby? Death. A man forged accountancy records? Death. Father was a hitman. He worked for VIPs to eliminate their usually VIP clients, but he didn't accept any case. He always had it vetted by the authorities and gained Aku's blessing before killing a man. Justice is not a frivolous thing. He never went into detail about why he stopped, but by the time he did he'd made a fortune enough to build well… this. This to him is the ultimate judicial court. Its orange floor serves as a spotlight to highlight the crimson spillage of the blood of villains throughout the land. Its spherical shape served to waft the unholy purifying iron perfume of blood throughout the lungs of onlookers, teaching them what happens to outlaws and deterring them from, breaking the law. His voice was the voice of justice. His order was the will of justice. He was justice manifest in this violent court of law. The only thing higher than himself is the law, because it defines his contestants. Jack was here because he was rebel with a destructive past. Only death can teach him the error of his ways, perhaps when he is on the edge of a deathly blow he shall remember all those poor souls vanquished directly or indirectly by the sting of his blade. Death, he thought, was the only true justice a lawbreaker deserved. Sooner or later a member of our community would end up here, but that hadn't happened yet. He always hated it when I brought up that can of worms. Luckily for him, that can of worms cannot be brought up again- in light of recent events.

Returning to the experience at hand, it was father's esteemed privilege to announce the commencement and cessation of the fights, and it was my privilege to watch in awe at how he did it. He captivated minds and souls every time. Indeed, my father was such a skilled orator he refused to use a microphone. He actually had one there that didn't work because he liked how it looked! He was a fan of ancient sporting events where microphones were used and fighters fought out of corners, but he loved the colosseum even more so. He loved the finality of it. How the contestants saluted the emperor willing to give their lives to the sport. To him, that devotion was beautiful, and it was him ambition to grow that in his fighters. That is why he allowed the champions to sit by themselves and enjoy better accommodation. They were off limits to Bob because they had proven themselves worthy in combat. Such a culture for combat is sorely lacking after _he_ brought down the dome.

The first fights are usually what father calls card fillers. Many were just robot vs robot, nothing interesting really. They went in descending order of boredom. First, the synthetic fights. Then the organic VS synthetic fights, and finally the deathly organic fights- what we all came to see really. Just before _he_ was brought up was one particularly awful synthetic organic fight. The organic- I think it was some frog creature- ran from a robot. A ROBOT! Pathetic! I was happy to see the robot tear open his left lung and spray it with oil causing the bastard to drown in both his and its blood. Then, with a push of a button my father dismantled the droid and brought forth Gordo. Gordo was an idiotic, moronic, imbecilic monkey whose only talent was brute strength. They brought him against seven droids and he brought them to scrap in no time. Then they brought him against a scrawny raccoon like creature and before my father could address his weight he was out. After a few of these and a few uninteresting brawls to the death my father rose up and addressed the crowd.

'Thank you Gordo for destroying the Maniacal Claw with such quick efficiency to bring us to the appointed hour of doom!' The crowd roared in the knowledge that Jack was due. They began to thud and roar and cheered 'Two Sandals' the name he was billed under in last minute advertisements. I'm pleased to say that that was a name I coined up because of the click-clack of his two wooden sandals. 'Good people of Hallo's Ridge, are you ready to witness the main contestant of the evening!' The cheers overwhelmed us 'ARE YOU READY?' The dome cracked from their cheers and applause 'Then BRING OUT THE NEXT CHALLENGER!'

The dome eclipsed itself and in the darkness only the redness of Jack's cell appeared and lo and behold there he was! Samurai Jack emerging from the ground beneath us to the deafening roar of the crowd!

'Honored guests I give you the enemy of the land, the one who holds death hostage, the one who AKU awaits with abated breath, I give you: Jack!'

The crowed stomped their feet, banged their heads, and almost lost control of themselves. I had never seen a crowd so excited. The legends they have heard about this man and now here he stands, ready to face justice. I did not see myself but I am sure my body betrayed me as their bodies betrayed them. Seeing _him_ there on the chopping block was and still is an ecstatic moment in my life. His legs were chained together and so were his arms. The look of confusion on his face was priceless. His eyes, wrinkled and dry from the sudden restoration of light, darted around the room-presumably in search of a structural weakness but there was none. 'This is a spherical dome.' I thought 'neither you nor your terrorist associates can bring her down!'

'Indeed good citizens. This _IS_ Samurai Jack! The warrior of _TWO SANDALS_! A man known for his _Tenacious Turbulent Translucent Trickery and Treachery!_ Only the DOME OF DOOM can put such a _terrible tyrannical transparently troublesome terrorist_ to justice! Mother Justice knows not of any restrictions against herself or her actors! No weapon is too violent! No victory is too small! No wound is too great! There is only honor to be gained by serving her! Death to be gained by serving her! And _enjoyment_ by adhering to her!'

The dome quaked with delight as both I and Jack looked at the walls of the dome traditionally ordained with weapons of all kinds: Spears, rods, halberds, maces, arrows, daggers, swords- and regretfully- _his_ sword. I remember I was shocked to see it. I tried to grab father's attention but he wouldn't have it. This was _his_ moment. To him addressing the crowd was sacred. It was a tradition I would eventually inherit, hence my presence at his side. I must observe every detail, every move, to be able to replicate, enunciate, and elevate his standards when I am destined to do so. So I pointed at the sword and looked at the captain and he face palmed. 'Did we make a mistake?' I thought. I was, as ever, wrong. Captain was laughing at me and sent me a text reading 'The sword is there to deter Aku. If it wasn't Aku would come here and take Jack for himself. Your father's orders.' I read it and I too began to laugh. How could I have been so stupid?

'Gordo the Gruesome!' Father called out to Gordo from the circle. Gordo stood at attention revealing just how hairy and furry he was. His fur stuck out of every orifice in his chest piece. His uni-brow was so thick it itself acted as armor against blows to the head. 'I call you to put an end to this _Prancing Pretender!'_

'My honor.' Gordo panted under his breath as his eyes narrowed at Jack's also narrowed eyes. Gordo then put on a show of confidence. It was unusual of him, but since it was Samurai Jack I understood why it was done. Gordo began:

'Prepare to suffer Two-Sandals the Treacherous!' at that line I knew my father wrote what he was saying. It was for audience fanfare, no more no less. Gordo's English was actually terrible. The monkey only spoke so because of some lab experiment or something. I remember he used to say 'Give sword.' 'Want kill.' An idiot without a doubt. But he had a fondness in father's heart because he was the first contender in the dome, and surprisingly he lasted this long. Without intellect all he had was pure brawn. We expected him to last up to the third fight, but surprisingly he's gone 13-0. Well, 13-1 after this, and in the dome 1 is all you need. He was a good monkey, may he rest in peace.

Then, just as father began to signal for the commencement of combat saying 'without any further-'Gordo stole the microphone and went on an adlib. Usually, father wouldn't allow this, but now I saw him laughing. I laughed too. 'The stupid monkey thinks the mic actually works!' I said to my brother and we laughed through the entire speech. It mostly consisted of things repeated on film and radio, things he can't think of independently. If I recall it went something like this:

'I WILL BEAT YOU LIKE A DRUM! I WILL HANG YOU OUT LIKE LAUNDRY! I AM THE MASTER MECHANIC! THE ALPHA AND OMEGA! I WILL PUT A HURTING ON YOU SLAVE! I'M GONNA TEAR YOU UP INTO LITTLE SHREDS AND THEN I'M GONNA TAKE THOSE SHREDS AND TEAR THEM UP INTO LITTLE SHREDS! I WILL MAKE YOUR MOTHER CRY! I WILL MAKE YOUR AUNT EDNA FROM SOMMERSET BARNABY CRY! ARE YOU READY FOR PAIN TWO SANDALS!?'

We laughed stupendously at Gordo, but we let him continue. I looked at father and halfway through our laughter his began to die out, which cut mine short too.

'What's wrong father?'

'Nothing son, It's just Gordo is all.'

'What about him?'

'Well, he's going to die.'

'Why?'

'Because I've arranged it.'

'I thought you wanted Jack to die.'

'Yes, I do, I also want people to have a good show, and if it means Jack killing Gordo, then so be it.'

'But how do you know Jack is going to kill Gordo?'

'Gordo fought the last three matches. He's tired and the crowd's tired of him. If he doesn't die, I'll kill him myself.'

Before we knew it, combat ensued. Gordo, obviously, threw the first punch and threw Jack right towards the weapons. Idiot. Gordo threw a punch right where Jack was, but he had ducked quick enough to have Gordo hit the wall behind him. A wooden stick fell to him as a result of Gordo's moronic behavior, and Jack used it to his advantage. He used the center piece to hit Gordo's chin, swiped from the left to hit Gordo's eye, and just when he was right out of balance Jack crushed Gordo's middle finger on his left paw forcing him to the ground. Jack beat the monkey senseless. Father and I both knew Gordo was going down, but this was just humiliating. Jack just went to town on him. Whack after whack after whack, and the stick's marking began to show not just on Gordo's armor but the skin underneath. So much for being ready for pain and putting a hurting on 'Two Sandals'. Even the audience grew restless and booed Gordo for the first time ever! I could see father on the edge of his seat saying the words 'come on' underneath is breath, and just then his prayers were answered. Gordo used his ape-ish reach to grab the scythe from behind him and cut Jack's stick in two. The scythe was so sharp it cut open the continuum in Jack's left eye brow. There was a little blood, nothing major. If anything Jack just got madder. Gordo kicked Jack across the ring and all that did was madden him further. Gordo's overconfidence was showing as he giggled his way around Jack brandishing his scythe. He gave Jack every opening and opportunity in the world. It was as if he said 'Come, fight me, look at my scythe and how you can parry it against me!' Stupid monkey. Jack struck a pose and that angered Gordo, which is exactly what Jack wanted- an overconfident, rage-blinded monkey. Gordo leapt at him only to find Jack flying above him in the air. Before he could turn around, Jack played a symphony on his body using his sticks as drumsticks. So much for 'Beat you like a drum'. Gordo collapsed onto the floor and in his eyes there were a flicker of tears. Father stood up to deliver Gordo's obituary, but before that could be Gordo leapt up from his grave. His fur thickened, his eyes reddened, his claws sharpened, and his shrieking intensified deafening us and the Samurai. His voice only grew more disturbing and rattling as his teeth morphed into fangs ready to eat Jack's liver! It was a sight that _literally_ made my mother cry. Father loved every second if it. It was just what the audience wanted.

'It looks like he's gone primal folks! This is it!' Father said jubilantly. _That_ , I now see, was Gordo's obituary.

Jack, who had prematurely looked away in victory, looked behind him to see what he thought was a corpse very much alive and pounding both the floor and his chest in what can only be described as a primitive war dance. It was Jack now, who was fearful and overconfident. He dropped the drumsticks and ran towards his sword. Pitiful. Gordo was quicker than any man and lunged at Jack forcing him to fall back. Each lunge grew nearer and more deadly than the last. First they were straight misses, then they chipped away at fleshless parts of his robe until one caught Jack cleanly on the arm leaving a bloody four claw reminder of Gordo's presence. Despite the pain, Jack persisted by closing his eyes and steadfastly edging towards the wall behind him. Each step was more vital to him that the last because Gordo's hollering wetted the path behind him making it more slippery to the touch and pace. When Jack finally grasped whatever weapon was behind him, he saw that it was a trident. No use for killing monkeys, but perfect for baiting an idiot like Gordo. Indeed, even though Jack was on the retreat, he was in total control. Even at a young age I could see that. Through the crowds' chanting for Gordo, I could see that he was a lost cause. He made the mistake of underestimation, and that ended him. Jack took the trident and diverted the monkey's attention from himself. I don't think Gordo had ever seen a trident before. Jack lifted it up, but remarkably Gordo stayed fixated on his prey and snapped his jaw at Jack's torso clipping away the lower left quarter of his robe. Luckily for Jack, he didn't catch him in his jaws, otherwise he would have become lunch! As Gordo pulled back to assess what opportunities he had after failing to quite literally eat his opponent- this was not a situation Gordo could primitively eat himself out of- Jack took advantage and regained his composure. He lowered the trident just enough to see himself, but enough to distort Gordo's vision. Gordo tried to push the trident away, but Jack having anticipated this twisted the trident such that Gordo's paw was caught in the trident. Jack then twisted the trident upright breaking Gordo's wrist. Gordo cut Jack through the face to let him loosen his grip on the trident, and resultantly end Gordo's pain prematurely. Jack's grunt of pain caused the crowd to erupt in joy and therefore my father erupted with them! They saw that Samurai Jack could not only bleed, but could be foiled!

Gordo, however, was already defeated. His rage induced primacy had already begun to shrink and whither. His paw was causing him to limp, his other paw had a broken wrist, and his body had the markings of stick all over it. He was quite literally on his last leg. Having failed to disarm Jack, father and I knew this was it. Jack took opportunistically took advantage of the situation and threw his trident up into the air. Gordo thought he saw an opportunity, failing to realize who had created it for him. He lunged at Jack for the last time, and valiantly gave his life for the Dome of Doom. Jack kicked him back, caught the trident in midair, and signed his autograph on Gordo's face with the trident. By the time he was done, Gordo's face was unrecognizable. His armor, made of metal, had been torn to shreds, and those shreds had been torn to littler shreds. His primate blood filled the arena, and his corpse lay motionless on the floor. Jack killed Gordo.

I did not feel sympathy for him. After all, he was expendable save for his emotional value. His idiocy and inexperience led to this fate. Moreover, he was a child molester and even in prison he routinely abused the juvenile inmates claiming their posteriors were more 'succulent' than the rest. It was his time. Justice called for him as it calls for all of us.

Jack, in an ill-conceived and premature tossed away his weapon. Disarmed, he stood victorious when in reality he was in the most perilous position of all: defenseless on the battlefield. The wound on his face grew more pronounced. Three crimson scars that reeked of vulnerability. On his lower-left ribs were four streaks of painful scars. Jack did not care for them. His eyes were closed in misplaced confidence with the thought that by killing an ignoramus he has won his freedom. No, Jack. This was supposed to be your death sentence. You of all people _cannot_ come out of here alive. _Your_ death would instill joy in our hearts and Aku's favor in my father. You should, as a noble samurai, give your life for society's sake. But no, you are an imposter. A man whose only delight in this world is the suffering of others. Father saw this. He saw the glee in the crowd's eyes as they saw the first invigorating fight of the night. He also saw Jack exude of foolishness and I know he found amusement in it. Father composed himself into a mold of phony sorrow to deliver Gordo's eulogy.

'I have nothing to say good citizens. This… is unwittnesable. There are only five words that do Gordo justice.' He paused remorsefully then smiled wickedly, his yellow teeth peering through his black lips and yelled with his fist held high 'BRING OUT THE NEXT CHAMPION!'

Just then, the dome shook and riveted. Its rods ached and its bolts slithered out of position. Vents erupted from their sockets and the air thickened with an uncanny moisture. Jack looked around in anticipation and curiosity only to find the answer not around him but _above_ him. The dome's ceiling was covered in orifices and gutters and these all showered him and the ring in a gush of water. Then, from beneath the floor a glass cage flooded with saltwater and fish emerged. Within it was the _Aqualiser_. A man who had been recovered from a disastrous ship-wreck of the coast of the North Sea. It is said that his body was in an irrecoverable condition and that the hospital he was admitted to- Aku General- wanted to pull the plug on him. But this man was no ordinary fisherman. He was a legendary harpooner. It was said that he hunted game as large as whale for sport! But he distinguished himself by immersing himself deliberately in the sea to catch the beasts where they least expected it. Indeed, he caught these animals not for feast but for mere sport! He was said to be a vegetarian. That, however changed after the accident. Father explained it to me not six months ago. He told me that when he was informed of the hospital's intention to end his life, he paid his friend Erasmus- head surgeon- a hefty price to allow his men into the facility to conduct their own tests on the _Aqualiser_. He, of course, was not known by that name at the time. Father never told me what his true name was. He said it reduced the mystique of it. Father and his boys created the Aqualiser from the husk of a harpooner he once was. Indeed, he had lost all his limbs and his face was gashed and bashed in unrecognizably horrid ways. To create this behemoth that stood before us Father gave him a bionic left arm that could transform to a great many weapons including a saw, sword, pickaxe, trident, and of course harpoon. His right forearm- still attached to his fleshy arm and shoulder- was given an augmented revamp which allowed him to exercise use of it while enhancing its durability (metal is harder than enamel). That arm was used to grasp melee weapons and the Aqualiser was known for favoring a halberd due to its cutting-reach. Everything else about him was biologically basic. He wore a standard scuba-diver's mask that to you or I is not threatening in the slightest but to an elixir maker who believes in conspiracy theories relating to a time traveling ancient samurai warrior then that was a hellish thing from Dante's seventh inferno! His crotch area was so deformed that it could not be weaponized- as per the original design- without killing its host. Thus the Aqualiser's deformed genitals were secluded from view by a basic suture of seaweed and rubber. Low cost solutions for high tech problems. His legs were bionic of course but they served no true purpose aside from movement and water propelling. In fact, he was designed to fight aquatically. If he were to fight on dry land he would be clunky and immobile. I once asked father why he added this fatal flaw and he said to me 'No one wants an unbeatable champion! Where's the fun in that!' A sadistic approach, I know, but I can't deny it sold tickets.

The Aqualiser was one of our newer additions. He had not fought many times earlier. This was perhaps his third bout. He had won against a slave so easily in his debut that father matched him against a low ranking champion that same day and he won! Now, as a reigning, defending champion he was tasked with the slaughter of Samurai Jack. A task father knew he was not up to. 'He is a depreciating asset. Sooner or later the bionics will give in, and I'd rather not have that anti-climactically end his championship.' Father said to me the night before at dinner when explaining his champion selection. But ever the showman, father had to sell the Aqualiser to the crowd:

'From deep within the deepest abyss of the seventh ocean of Amalgamus! There rose a champion of unimaginable proportions! Half machine! Half flesh! All terror! The Aqualiser!'

The water raced down into the ring faster than rainfall and the velocity of a waterfall combined! Jack struggled to avoid it until he was swept up within it and forced to remain afloat by virtue of his peddling. He was up to his neck in water and with each gush of water that fell into the pool of doom, his chin fell deeper into the water and his attempts at remaining afloat were futile. Just then, father signaled with his right hand to lower the glass ceiling. The slab was a round, transparent, thick, glass lid that fell just above the surface of the water. It made sure no oxygen got in and no water got out. After all, our patrons came to be entertained not soiled! The crowd roared in anticipation as they saw a timer of five minutes on the clock. This was a greater challenge! If the timer ran out it meant that the slab would not be opened and both the Aqualiser and Samurai Jack would drown! Not only that, but if the timer elapsed, a school of flesh eating piranhas would flood the arena and feast on whatever corpses—or survivors—therein. Of course none of this was explained to Jack. After all what good is an assassination attempt without the thrill of surprise? The Aqualiser however knew all of this- it was his idea!

Just as the slab slid onto the tip of the ring, with only Jack's nose separating his body from suffocation Jack looked down from the corner of his eye and saw the Aqualiser's right shoulder scale back to pierce his glass cage with his halberd. Realizing that the water level would rise just enough to fill their enclosure Jack took a deep breath and swam down just as the glass burst and flooded whatever oxygen was left. The giant screens around the arena illuminated as we all got a closer look at the action. We all saw things from the same perspective. No one saw anything differently, both within and without the circle. Before we could get our bearings as to where the contenders were in relation to one another combat ensued. We knew because the bubbles underneath the glass were so violent they nearly broke free!

The Aqualiser propelled himself with his legs towards Jack at dolphin speed. Jack, having no augmentations could only hope to be quick enough to be marginally hurt. He swam from side to side, vertically and horizontally dodging the blows the Aqualiser hurled at him from beneath the sea. With each motion his oxygen levels depleted and his lungs began to contract. His wounds had begun to seep into the water turning it from a crisp blue to a reddish tint of painful composition. Jack managed to swim behind a decorative fin underneath the water and the Aqualiser's speedy flurry did not account for it. In tearing Jack's left shoulder, the Aqualiser tore the sharp end of the fin which Jack immediately pushed towards the Aqualiser at huge risk to himself. Had he pushed the thing a moment longer then the Aqualiser's next attack would have claimed his fingers! Luckily for him, when the Aqualiser swung his halberd for the tenth or eleventh time, his arm caught the sharp end of the fin and added to the crimson blood they swam in. The piranhas became restless as the clock ticked past four minutes. The pouring and dilution of blood made their bellies restless and their appetites immense. Jack sized the advantage as the Aqauliser assessed his wounds and swam over the weapon wall and grabbed two shields. They were Mycroft's shields. Alas, he had died so painfully the month before this spectacle. The shields were spiked and made of stainless steel. Perfect for deflecting halberd attacks and slicing through the wood that held the blade in place. Jack kicked off both his geta and deliberately sank to the bottom of the ring, luring the Aqualiser to his prey. This counterintuitive motion was quite the strategy from Samurai Jack. By allowing himself to sink without his Geta he would not have to carry the Geta's weight whilst swimming. Further, because wood tends to float underwater, swimming and maneuverability become a much simpler task. I am amazed to this day how he fought that first minute with the Aqualiser wearing those clunky things without sustaining more than a shoulder scar. Upon landing there Jack had his eyes closed and his hair unkempt. His ponytail has a few strands coming out of it, and from all sides of his once disciplined style- representative of his endogenous composure- there came stray hairs of all sorts and strands showing the mounting stress in his mind and heart. The look of determination he gave to the Aqualiser after was most traumatizing. It yelled to us all that he knew he was not defeated, even though the odds were deliberately stacked against him and that his victory was at hand. He knew this in his heart to be true. He believed wholeheartedly in the alleged righteousness of his cause. Yes, I disagree with this man, but in that moment he earned by respect as a warrior. I knew then and there that he fought not for others, but out of conviction, and it is this conviction that shall forbid me from ever underestimating him should we meet on the field of battle. His eyes pierced the Aqualiser's visor and said to him through an unseen precognitive medium 'Come and get me!'

The Aqualiser fell for the trap and once again propelled himself to him. Jack waited with bated breath, his sweat adding to the pool of diluted iron they swam in. His eyes closed as he depending on the sound of the Aqualiser's propellers to gauge his attack. As he came close, the Aqualiser pulled his halberd back and swung it at Jack's neck aiming to decapitate him. Jack opened his eyes, and propelled himself back to the wall and caught the halberd with his shields. He exerted some pressure on it, but the Aqualiser managed to retrieve it from him. Jack inadvertently exhaled in frustrating wasting precious oxygen, he did not let it distract him. The Aqualiser surely didn't. He swung again only this time Jack was prepared. He had left his foot on the wall and just as the Halberd came swinging down he pushed himself away and rotated in a full circle to disorient his enemy and with one fell motion he rang the bell on the Aqualiser's grave and smacked his metal shield onto his foe's metal helmet. Disoriented, Jack seized the moment and cut the halberd in half with the sharp spikes on the shield, disarming the Aqualiser.

Time had caught up to the combatants now. Two minutes were left before the man eating fish would come pouring out. Jack quickly made a vertical jerk to the roof of the tank. He had let go of the shield in his left and used whatever energy he could muster to lug that heavy shield in his left. He was going to cut the glass open! Thankfully, the Aqualiser saw this just in time, and the crowd loved it. They applauded with such joy when they saw his right hand transform into a five-fingered claw and launch itself after the cat-fished Samurai. The claw was faster than Jack. It cut through the water-and Jack's back- as quick as a dolphin and scarred Jack with five dangerously potent cuts. The cameras replayed that seen for our enjoyment and we saw Jack grunt in agony releasing more morsels and pockets of what limited oxygen lingered in his ribcage. His tears now- not his sweat- fed the pool of doom. Jack now had his back pressed against the glass and we in the circle could see the blood stains on it! The cameras showed us just how much pain and anxiety coursed through Jack's veins. His hair now loosened, his composure unchecked, and his anger intensified. More aggressive- and risky- thoughts raced through his mind as more and more strands of black hair popped out of place and crossed his line of vision and nostrils whisking behind him as he raced back down to the pit of the pool. During his descent he once again twisted and turned as naturally as a mermaid would, only this time he tore off his gee halfway down. The Aqualiser saw this and switched his weapon to a knife-throwing projectile dispenser. The rate of fire on that thing was incredible. Tens of knives swam through the water to cut Jack in all sorts of places, his nipples, his face, his thighs, and his hands, but these cuts were more closely compared to scratches than scars. As Jack swam closer, and closer, his legs betrayed him further and further, and we could see his eyes darken as vision began to escape them both due to blood-loss and suffocation. He swam and swam and swam towards and right past the Aqualiser. 'He's done for!' I thought. Even the Aqualiser didn't understand what had just happened. He suspended his knife throwing thinking that Jack might have drowned. The Aqualiser allowed himself to sink right down to where Jack was—at the floor. Jack lay there near motionless. His head rested on his gee and his rogue strands of hair floated above his head like crows over a corpse. His legs too were stiff as rods. The Aqualiser came before him casting a shadow over him and signaled to the crowd his signature 'death taunt' He turned his knife launcher into a harpoon and prepared to hunt his biggest prize. As the harpoon went back behind the Aqualiser's skull his prey regain life! The gee in his hand found itself on the Aqualiser's visor and Jack's sash usually adorned around his waist to keep the lower part of his clothes from revealing indecency was lassoed around the Aqualiser's left hand and the same steel shield Jack left underwater. The Aqualiser was trapped in his own aquatic environment! The scuba helmet prevented him from drowning, but the piranhas would arrive within one minute! Jack raced up to where he once was with the second steel shield falling towards him. Jack caught the thing and immediately with all his might smashed through the glass ceiling triumphantly landing on the other dry side where plenty of oxygen awaited. Then we all got a look at just how mortal the legendary Samurai Jack was. The cameras didn't do it justice. This man was in pain. The lower part of his robe was cut in many places and underneath each tear was a scar. The scars decorated his legs like branches decorate a tree. The fabric stitched greaves were- in absence of his sash- tied together to maintain his decency. His torso was completely devastated. In addition to the cuts on his lower left abdominal area inflicted by Gordo he had five new cuts on his right side and what I counted was eight cuts on his arms. His face was spared significant damage with just one new cut underneath the left eye in addition to Gordo's three on his left cheek. His hair now soaked in both blood and water was untidy and unkempt but it was not fully undone. Jack stood there with his eyes closed in victory. With just twenty seconds to go and no sign of the Aqualiser father and I resigned ourselves to the successful implementation of our plan. Of course, the crowd loved every second of this. Two Sandals the Treacherous sinks the Aqualiser! They were about to see the seaman die in the sea as he was supposed to that fateful day. As the clock ticked closer to zero we noticed a disturbance in the water. 'The piranhas!' I exclaimed to everyone's dissatisfaction as they hushed me back into my isolated cave of silence. No. It was the Aqualiser! He was still alive. He too jumped through the glass and he too showed us the extent of his mortality. His right arm was fully intact- save for the minor injury Jack caused, but was missing his halberd. His left arm exhibited signs of blood loss indicating the extent of the Aqualiser's devotion to this deadly dance. He had drawn enough blood from his own arm by cutting it in four different placed to make it narrow enough to slip through the lasso Jack imposed. He must have used the shield's spikes themselves to make those cuts because his right arm lacked the ability to transform into alternative weapons. One would think he would just lug the shield with him, but that would just delay his death. Jack would have surely pounced on him if that liability was there when he emerged from his submerged tomb. Instead, the Aqualiser's ingenuity and sacrificial servitude won him a look of astounded shock and awe from both ourselves and the once triumphant Samurai warrior. With both arms held aloft in the air the Aqualiser bled the color green and addressed us all:

'Do not fear! I have travelled the seven seas and faced _far_ greater foes than this mere contender!'

Jack looked at him with narrower eyes in relished anticipation for the climactic end to this worthy duel. The Aqualiser put both hands together one last time and threw from within them a glorious golden ray of death that burst holes in both flesh and glass beneath. Jack thread and tread his way around the beams that shot in short, fatal, bursts to find himself just before the Aqualiser just where he had landed. Out of water and in dry atmosphere the Aqualiser had found himself now in Jack's battleground. Jack held his greaves in his left, and with his right he made a fist that cracked deep into the Aqualiser's very human torso sending him down crashing into the ground. His beam no more, Jack looked to his down trodden foe and saw his right attempt to sweep at him and so his left leg found itself pressed deeply and violently over his right arm. Then, as he towered over his foe like Mars over Poseidon with the sun shining at his back giving him an almost indomitable look and feel the true violence that burst his heart in two snapped when from the corner of his eye he once again saw the Aqualiser's persistence and perseverance strive towards victory coveted just beyond his reach, behind the false halo adorning what little dignity befell the unkempt knot in Samurai Jack's traditional _Chonmage._ The Aqualiser's left shift into a mechanical saw and father watched with little remorse in his smile of wicked anticipation the painful death that would befall the Aqualiser. Father muttered to us unawares in the midst of his unchecked savory drooling:

 _Once more unto the breach, dear Aqualiser, once more;_

 _Or close the dome up with our noble dead._

 _In peace there's nothing so becomes a man_

 _As modest stillness and humility:_

 _But when the blast of war blows in our ears,_

 _Then imitate the action of the tiger;_

 _Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,_

 _Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;_

 _Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;_

 _Let pry through the portage of the head_

 _Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it_

 _As fearfully as doth a galled rock_

 _O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,_

 _Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean._

 _Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,_

 _Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit_

 _To his full height. On, on, you noblest fools._

 _Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!_

 _Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,_

 _Have in these parts from morn till even fought_

 _And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:_

 _Dishonour not your mothers; now attest_

 _That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you._

 _Be copy now to men of grosser blood,_

 _And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,_

 _Whose limbs were made in Doom, show us here_

 _The mettle of your pasture; let us swear_

 _That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;_

 _For there is none of you so mean and base,_

 _That hath not noble lustre in your eyes._

 _I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,_

 _Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:_

 _Follow your spirit, and upon this charge_

 _Cry 'God for Examus, Doom, and Noble Aku!_ '

Father loved Shakespeare, that I know, but I still do not know who he references more in this paraphrasing of King Henry—The Aqualiser or Samurai Jack. I know only that at this point our goals of releasing the violence, exposing the terror of Samurai Jack to the audience was all but achieved. I also knew the amount of patience father had had grown thin, and that is a testament to Jack's own goodwill- he made us wait a good two fights against enemies not considered weak at all to show us his demonic hunger and deceptive ineptitude for pain and suffering.

Yes, Jack saw the saw, and with his other leg brought it down on the Aqualiser's very mortal shoulder. The screams we heard through that helmet shook the dome more than the gushing of water, more than the trembling fear we all felt when we saw the Aqualiser for the first time. The Aqualiser, by virtue of Samurai Jack, sawed off his own arm. Oh but, Jack was not finished there. He took the Aqualiser's arm and bashed his face with it knocking him down and scattering his thoughts. He then took the arm- The Aqualiser's own arm! - And brought it down on his other shoulder!

'NO! NO! NO! PLEASE I YIELD!' The Aqualiser pleaded in vain as Jack brought the saw down on its own shoulder with the sawing being only eclipsed by two things. The Aqualiser's screams of agony that brought tears of joy to father's eyes, and Jack's screams of rage that brought fear into my heart. Now, armless and defenseless, Jack held the saw aloft and was prepared to saw open the Aqualiser's face.

'No!' he cried and almost in a miraculous flash of impossibility- Jack listened. It was almost empathetically remorseful the interaction they had shared. In his last moments, the Aqualiser begged his foe:

'You have defeated me Samurai. I beg of you, show my distorted face not to these good people. Give me the kindness of dying with honor, my embarrassment sheltered from those who gave my death meaning.'

Without saying a word, Jack calmly stood aside and with his left foot, rolled the Aqualiser into the very breach in the glass he had escaped from and watched as the water turned red in a grizzly, hungry feast of death. Such was the martyrdom of the Aqualiser at the hands of the merciless but formidable Samurai Jack.

As the pool was drained of the blood-water concoction and the piranhas showed back to their cages, large battering rams brought the glass to a shatter, and Jack landed right back onto the floor next to his Geta. He allowed himself a respite to kneel down and redo his top knot and restore composure both to himself and to his appear. He soaked the water out of it and slipped his geta back on. All the while Father explained himself to the audience:

'Excellent work Two-Sandals! You have brought doom to the dome of doom! But your trials are far from over. Our mercy to you ends here!'

'No!' Jack shouted, arrogant as it was. No man talks back to the ring master.

'I will not participate in this senseless violence any longer! You will have to find your entertainment elsewhere!' He said motioning towards the exit. Pitiful. The only way a man leaves the ring is in a box! Not to mention hypocritical. This man kills Gordo, and feeds the Aqualiser to deadly fish and then forsakes the dome? No, he is one of us now! Regardless of whether or not he approves. He is _ours_ and rightfully so! Did we not ensnare him that day in the woods? If he was _worthy_ of freedom then surely he could outsmart a group of children?

Father, anticipating this, continued the charade and said:

'This is a dark moment indeed ladies and gentlemen! Not only has he insulted the purity of our pristine dome, but he has insulted our dignity! 'Senseless' he says! Senseless! As if we were nothing more than a group of isolated islandic savages. But that is _precisely_ what the next champion is. With no more mercy from us to you, Two Sandals, we bring before you from the very cesspool that brought to us your brand of backward treachery the champion to end all champions- the unconquerable mass: Sumoto!'

Light obstructed by the mass that lurked behind the Samurai excused itself from the room. Light as a concept ceased to exist in the shadow of the boulder of a man that stood in the center of the ring. The unconquerable behemoth stood behind Jack and lurked devilishly with a grin to match. His arms were a tree's width in diameter and his belly was wide enough to swallow Jack whole. His eyes were narrow, but in looking at his prey they widened to the width of a bowling ball. His uni-brow, not unlike Gordo's, was as bushy as his hair. His body was shaven clean and slick as oil. His hairline receded into his scalp where it all met in a consortium not dissimilar to Jack's. His nipples sagged as low as the breasts on a menopausal woman who had mothered a tribe by herself. His was truly an unsightly presence. Had it not been for the waistband he had decorated himself with- or perhaps more accurately his team decorated him with; no man of that size can possibly do anything for himself- he would have been hated even more so than Jack.

His mere presence proved to me that the eastern races are inferior to us pure-blooded westerners. Truthfully, these isolated easterners were far too stupid to even submit to Aku. Indeed, even now thousands of years after the fact still they are a stubborn thorn in the side of society itself. They deserve not our sympathy nor our tolerance nor our acceptance. They must be enslaved to serve their betters, those who have willingly prostrated to his eminence and glory. Indeed, the extent of these savages insolence knew no bounds, for even now, when _we_ rightfully _owned_ Samurai Jack, still he seeks to defy us. He turned to us with fear in his eyes and a gulp in his throat with a quake in his voice 'I will not fight!' I choked on my drink. Not because I was offended, although I _was_ but because he thought he had a choice! Father put it theatrically and accurately.

'Then you shall be _destroyed!'_

I must take a moment to describe the plan father had concocted. You see, we wanted to wear Jack down, and by him refusing to fight we had successfully done so. After all the man is cut in a two dozen different places, his gee has gone to the fish and the only thing keeping his decent is a knot over his flowing Japanese greaves- or do they call it a curias? No matter, they are infidels anyhow. Gordo was _meant_ to die. The Aqualiser was _meant_ to die. Sumoto was _meant_ to die. All so that Jack would be worn down and tired enough to be defeated by the remaining champions who would set upon him with such speed and precision that he would be unable to keep up and would be vanquished for both our amusement and the thrill of the crowd- not to mention Aku's delight and bestowment of favor on us. Jack however, foiled our plan in this particular way. He not only refused to fight, but he refused to tire. How? Well, he took advantage of Sumoto's weight. None had done so before. In fact none had fought a Sumo wrestler before. Jack, however, must have seen them in whatever wasteland he came from, and so he knew precisely how to defeat them- with trickery and hypocrisy. These two things made not only for a foil to our specially devised plan, but distaste in our audience's perceptions. This made us double down on the remaining champions without adjusting their make-up. A fatal flaw indeed.

Jack defeated Sumoto in this one, simple way: He looked Sumoto dead in the eyes and said to him whilst licking his own wounds: 'I will not fight you Sumoto.' Naturally this dishonored this uncivilized tool so he allowed himself into a false security. He expected honesty from his fellow barbarian, but honesty does not come forth from such ilk. Honesty comes from us! We say you are enslaved and lo and behold! You are enslaved. This man says 'I will not fight' and proceeds to fight peacefully. Oxymoronic, but still, combat is combat.

Sumoto leapt up into the air and is to me still a mystery how his weight was able to even get itself up of the ground. Surely there must be some form of rope involved, or perhaps an unseen jetpack. As gravity mustered the strength to pull him down, all Jack did was jump up and shift his weight backwards as his wooden Geta smashed into Sumoto's chin and teeth. At terminal velocity with something as hard and small as that coming towards something as big and huge as Sumoto, that was a recipe for disaster. Even though Sumoto as an eastern ignoramus, I respect that he had the sensical clairvoyance to deduce that Jack lied to his face. 'I will not fight you' he said. Sumoto knew that that was a plea from a man who wanted nothing more to do with fatigue. This, alone is not an accomplishment for even a squirrel who'd been abandoned in the bottom of the Amazon River for its idiocy and rescued by a pack of innocent gorillas would see as much. The more important thing to note, which of course he didn't, was that Jack baited him into overconfidence so that his victory would come as smoothly as this. When Sumoto crashed into the floor and left his outline on the ring, Jack stood scantily and cheekily after landing on the ground that quaked the earth itself as he descended from the heights of the dome. Underneath Jack's splintered Geta ran Sumoto's blood as it poured profusely from the nostrils and mouth. This, while Jack-in the embodiment of fruitless rebelliousness defiance- landed just a few steps from where he insulted my father, and indeed our loyal patrons. We all looked at this with our faces curled up in wrinkled disgust, but our eyes flickered in the hope that Sumoto would muster the same strength he had to leap up into the air to get up onto his feet, and his groans indicated as such. That, however, would spell doom for Jack who-cleverly prudent on energy- decided to take matters in a more tacit direction.

While Sumoto struggled to get up Jack noticed that each time Sumoto's ponytail stroked the small hump of saturated fat on his neck, his groans grew more frequent. That ball of blubber was so misshapen that his body failed to detect that that which was stroking it was another part of it! He was so huge, that his body did not realize that his hair was tickling him! No normal human being can tickle himself, but it would appear that this gargantuan was so large that his nerves could not detect this simple thing. Unfortunately for us, though, Jack's eyesight did- and how couldn't it? It was there for all to see! When father and I saw this, we looked at each other half in laughter and half in despair knowing the foil that had befallen our plan- well father's plan. I only adopt it now because I am proud of what father tried to accomplish.

Jack stood in the center of the ring witnessing this horrific monstrosity of a spectacle and looked directly at father. With an evil grin on his face he saw there the opportunity to fight peacefully. To contend without violence. To oppose and defeat a combat without resorting to combat itself. He lifted his right arm to the knot in his own chonmage, and without a second care in the world hurled the band out of it and undid that which he had worked so hard to compose. Now there was a contradiction. A contrast in the Samurai's appearance and thoughts. Normally, as was the case against the Aqualiser, the condition of Jack's hair represents the condition of Jack himself. That, one may argue is his fatal flaw. No matter how calmly he presents himself, his proximity to rage is disclosed by the state of his hair. The more unkempt it is the more unkempt he is. Now, he is perfectly kempt and perfectly in control, but his hair is not. It flows in the wind with any force moving it around and about. It whisked in the air and twirled with every motion be it intelligent or decisively damning. At the time I did not notice it, but I saw a major difference here when compared with other encounters. His hair now, undone as it was, was still more composed than when it came undone in battle. Indeed, the fact that _he_ deliberately undid his hair caused it to fall gently and feathery on his shoulders, and not violently and maliciously on his eyes and face. What I saw that day was a dignified Jack, fully in command of himself _and_ his appearance. Indeed, when that band came loose in his outstretched hand, that mop of hair collapsed from the bun and fell down covering just the neck and part of the scars. When undone in battle, the hair is sweatier, more humid, and more untamable and obstructs vision peripherally and centrally. Now, it just kissed the scars and consoled them. It was not a strategic threat in the slightest.

Hairband in hand, Jack leapt towards the goliath knee to the abdomen and ecstatic smile on face. Even as a slave, Jack enjoyed himself. That goes to show how benevolent and kind we are to the lesser races. Despite the wounds on his body he still saw in this action of his, this betrayal of doom, some delight. Perhaps even sexual. I have not seen a man, ever, draw a smile on his face as wide as that. Perhaps he gets a sexual thrill from rebelliousness. Perhaps that is why he does the thing he does. Perhaps his quest is to maximize his sexual impulses in this way- at our expense. We will never know.

The wind frisked in his face as he came closer to Sumoto. The hair flew behind like a superhero's cape causing no problems at all. All Jack did was twist the hairband quickly and frequently on Sumoto's ribcage causing him to laugh profusely. All the while I could swear I saw a bulge under Jack's greaves. Such savage people these easterners are. Sumoto laughed until sweat turned to tears and finally gave his last breath. Sumoto brought more shame to the dome than Jack. Sumoto allowed himself to die of laughter of all things. We provide maces, and mauls for grizzly ironclad deaths, and this buffoon dies of laughter. Jack is blameless for this. Jack did the smart thing. He preserved his own breath and energy and expended his foe's in the simplest way possible.

Now that Sumoto was dead, Jack stood here hips to the side in frivolous glee. His smile outstretched from ear to ear. 'Senseless slaughter' he said. He killed a man by tickling for Aku's Sake! Tickling!

'That Jack truly is a conniving, scheming fellow' father muttered lamenting the disgust the crowd showed. You see, the Dome worked in a simple way. If the crowd enjoyed itself it mattered not who lived and who died, only that the audience enjoyed themselves. What we were doing in this particular case was slightly more than that. We were deliberately planning to slaughter Jack publically. After all, we promoted it as such! These people came to see Samurai Jack die! We promised them this, and the show must go on even if our plan seems foiled.

'What shall we do?' I asked my father.

'We shall continue as planned.' Father said with a stiff upper lip and stern determination about his expression. He addressed the crowd with symphonic words of consolation:

'This is incongruous!' he said

'WHAT?' They chanted back

'Inconceivable!' He replied

'WHAT?' They chanted back

' **INEXCUSABLE!'** he declared!

' **WHAT?'** they repeated.

'Very well then.' He said. 'If no one champion can bring him down then bring out ALL the champions!'

The crowd erupted and exploded in joyful anticipatory celebration while Jack jumped as a great many of his alleged 'nine lives' drowned in the excited cheers of our loyal patrons. Jack did not expect this. Not in the slightest. I do think he'd thought he'd won! His eyes widened to the width of a mortar while his pupils prematurely dilated to the size of a pin. His skin paled to the color of the moon as his eyes and face darted around the ring in search of 'all the champions'. His sweat built up and his hair handicapped into a heavier and soggier clump. It had become wetter with sweat than it was with water or Aqualiser blood which for the first time appeared clearly on what was left of his tunic. The tunic itself darkened into a moist beige as it absorbed the sudden burst in sweat all over his bloodied, battered, body. One would even be forgiven if psychologically deceived into smelling a hint of fearful eastern urine in the air.

Then, the western barricade rose up in a fit of smoke and from within it came Colossus. His feet crushed the ground beneath him whilst his knuckles remained lofty at the hips. In his left arm was great iron shield and in the left was a stainless steel longsword. The Red Cross painted on it with lions encrusting its every corner their predatory eyes reflecting the twinkle of the just sharpened sword. Colossus swung it in swagger and confidence as he approached Jack. Each swish of the sword cut the air thinner and thinner until from sheer anticipation and the audience's overconsumption of oxygen it felt as if we sat on the summit of the Mountain of Aku. His chest was guarded with an iron curiass on which was a hefty layer of chainmail. His boots were of a sharp metal and each step he took thudded the ring and shook the chainmail in a faint song of doom. His helmet was rectangular at the face and cylindrical at the top with a dark slit for the eyes. In that slit there was a soulless black, but I can assure you he is very much a man.

Colossus paced himself until he was five men away from Jack at the center of the arena. Jack was unarmed. He looked at his bare feet and scarred body and closed his eyes in annoyed disregard. He swung his head back as if to curse his own existence. Colossus then raised his sword horizontally pointed just to Jack's right. The crowd saw what he pointed at and gave a roar of excitement. Jack was confused as his eyes slowly and cautiously peeled away to the left to see what Colossus wanted- a golden diamond black hilted katana pressed softly and securely into the wall. Jack looked back at his respectful foe with a smile as he walked towards it and took it gently with both hands and held it delicately in the fist of his right hand as he walked back to his position. The climactic battle was now at hand.

Jack unsheathed his sword and let the sheathe fall to the floor in a bounce. He eyed his opponent eerily. Colossus did not move, nor should he. Even from this brief distance Jack was dwarfed by the mere size of him. His eyes did not reveal themselves from within the helmet but his gaze pierced his foe and the arena itself. The stare-down lasted only a few moments but those moments felt like the entire extravaganza. Then Colossus made the first move charging at Jack with the shield. Jack parried with the sword hoping to counter, but it was Colossus' sword that parried. In a stabbing motion he cut the air where Jack before he twisted himself out of harm's way. In the same motion Colossus' swooped his sword down where Jack's ankles were only to be an instant too late. From above, Jack's sword rained down on Colossus leaving only scratches on his shield. From behind it Colossus charged into Jack bashing him into the wall behind. Through the veil of his closed eyes, Jack heard the thunder of the shield coming for him again. Before vision could reorient him, the brunt of Colossus' shield sent him flying away towards a stream of his own saliva. Before he could sulk in it Colossus' forearm came again flung him back from whence he came. On the ground Jack stood up sword in hand; bruises masking his jaws. The samurai came at the knight with his sword and each man traded blows with the sword. Jack swung from above only to have his foe parry. Colossus thrust his shield only to be stopped by Jack's weight- painful as it was for him. From left and right Jack struck to no avail always meeting neither flesh nor blood- always metal. It was futile. It was like he was fighting a man half Aku's size! However, neither did Colossus break blood, each time either just missing or basically hurting his foe. The duel was an evenly matched one until lady luck sang a tune for the contender. As Colossus lifted his blade to strike from above it gave a premature twinkle in the sunlight- a twinkle reflected in widened Samurai eyes. It landed with such force on Samurai Jack's shadow that Jack grimaced in near-death as he scrambled to his foe's right. His foe, trapped in that tanking armor could not react quickly enough. As Jack recovered to his footing he stuck his sword arm far enough to draw blood from Colossus' armor breach in the knee. 'GAH!' Colossus' exclaimed in pain. Colossus turned around in a decapitating swoop but snipped only snippets of Jack's flaggingly long hair as he ducked down and cut the other knee. 'YEEARGH!' Colossus' exclaimed as his weight brought him into the ground; his knees unable to support him any longer. Jack stood over him in triumph! Jack closed his eyes in meditation and clamped his hands around his sword intertwining his fingers to increase friction as sweat threatened to loosen the weapon that has been tethered to his soul from his grasp. His arms went back slowly but decisively as his shoulders curled backwards into their sockets. The weapon pried through the Samurai's arrogance as it came parallel to his spine. Then like a scorpion's sting he thrust it forward just as volts of electricity tossed him across the arena. As quickly as he was zapped he flew away and crashed into the wall leaving his indent there. Paralyzed, dazed and confused he could not see what had befallen him. Just then he felt the weight of a colossal creature on him. The smell of iron now was strong- it was him. I knew he could not see it clearly, but he knew it to be so. Colossus again pinned him down with the shield. Through his disfigured thoughts I saw the absolute flabbergasted expressions escape periods of electrocuted paralysis as he lay on the ground vibrating profusely in stinging pain. His body warped and contracted like a suffocating fish in the hand of a veteran fisherman- only he was in the grasp of a warrior. Luckily for Colossus the voltage had died down enough to be tolerated by his shield and his own willpower. Jack's sword was only an arm's length away, but his arm failed him. Colossus' however pressed the advantage and filed all his weight from both good knees into the shield leaning on it with all he had. The weight alone cut into the Samurai's flesh as droplets of blood accumulated on the shield and spilled onto the floor. Now the smell of Iron intensified, but it was not as repugnant as what Colossus did next. He raised his right-hand sword and brought it down slashing Jack just above the makeshift waistline that he had tied. Jack cried in tormented suffering- his voice cracking because of it. Colossus, however, did not remove the blade from Jack's belly. Instead, he proceeded to saw through him, like a man slices through a steak. Jack howled and shrieked at first, but as his voice faded he began to squeal and yawp like a thirsty, whimpering dog. Walls of pain piled into Jack. His cries echoed not only in the arena but in himself. Through some determination of self, Jack jerked his knee in a reflex motion and rang Colossus' helmet pushing him- and his sword- off of Jack. With Colossus dazed, Jack struggled to his feet, the weight of his sword now weighing him down. His eyes looked heavy and clearly so- even through tresses of blindingly thick hair. The pain on his face was evident as in every second that passed by Jack's face grimaced five different ways. Yet just as clearly- through the locks of mangled hair- Jack saw the source of his misfortune.

Across the arena from his stood a figure dressed in all black robes. The robes ended with a flow not dissimilar to Jack's own. In the middle of them a streak of grey that crawled into the breasts. They too were armored in golden cages. The black sleeves were stroked with red, and the gloves that protruded from them had grey emblems of the arcane nature on each of the four knuckles. On the thumbs there were golden rings encrusted with incantations of unnatural witchcraft. Her breasts were draped with red feathers that formed an algebraic 'x' in the center as they swanned and blossomed into outstretched shoulder pads. Covering her head was a long black hat tipped with an enchanted ruby set in a grey placeholder. Here eyelashes blinked as she sized her foe. In her hazel eyes stood a miniscule, panting, broken, defeated, husk of a Samurai squarely and evenly situated in her sights. Her nose was not large nor was it small, but her nostrils naturally inflamed into a constantly angry posture. Her black tongue slithered from within her rose lips as her venomous saliva licked them in a combat-starved state. His eyebrows were hunched and arched underneath volumes of black hair neatly tied into a ponytail that stretched long down her spine ending just above the crevice. That nightly hair so slightly on days other than this and places other than here bode no good for the man on the other side of the arena. But he did not care.

In a frenzy he rushed towards her leaking his way there, leaving a trail of blood behind him. She stood there arms crossed waiting for him to slowly make his way there or die of gradual hemorrhage. Before crossing a fifth of the way he was already out of breath but he pushed on to make it halfway there. He was about to collapse when she stretched her ancient wooden staff that looked more like the root of a desert tree wrapped around long black, crooked, burnt claws and zapped him right in the chest- only this time it was absolutely painless. In fact, it gave him an energy he had never felt before. Through it he managed to run as quick as a speeding bullet. So quick that he could not even make up his mind whether to fight or thank her! Just as he came nose to nose with her, she snapped her right hand and a bubble spawned before her and he ran into- but not out of it.

The crowd that was once cheering incessantly hushed instantly. The arena suddenly turned into a library. Everyone looked at each other and hushed murmurs came about like bats in the night. She then pointed to Colossus to stand just a few meters from the center which had an unnatural blur about it.

'Outstretch your blade!' she cried and so he did without hesitation. She snapped her fingers again and out came the Samurai from the center speeding faster than a race horse. With such speed and sorcery only once outcome could exist. Jack bolted right into Colossus' blade, his sword now cutting deep into his intestines. The blade came in through the left wall of the large intestine and out the right. Jack's face went blank as his pupils dilated. The only thing that brought life back into them was the metal fist that punched his bruised jaw and buried it into the floor.

Jack was scattered on the floor. His legs spread open, his back lifted by his right shoulder only because of the pain it caused him to lay on his back. His right arm painfully dislocated on the floor and his left, despite the fractures was pressed on his stomach to keep as much blood inside- though he was failing at that task. His neck was stiff and his eyes looked to the wall blankly as if they were obscured with an unseen ink. His hair was his tombstone, as it described his life perfectly. Now dampened in unseen pheromones of fear and vulnerability, each stray strand made for a legendary animal's pelt fit for a hunter to make into a fine coat for harsher winters. As promised- Jack was _dying._

But the crowd would not have it. The booed and hissed at the sight! Honestly, they had every right to! There were _two_ more champions in the arena waiting for a turn to hack at him! But now that life was being drawn from his exhaling breath in substantial quantities, and because that breath became sparser with each deep inhale capturing but a fraction of the oxygen lost- it seemed like they would not get that chance.

Father saw this and he too would not have it. He stood up from his chair and twisted his wrist in the air at the sorceress leaving only his middle, index, and ring figures standing. The sorceress understood and stuck out her staff only this time a calming warmth came from it, a warmth that when wafted brought the smell of roses fit for a memorial. The perfume it had within it was so elegant that it almost had a melody to it. It was a summer breeze and a spring sonnet with the calming hands of mother to nurse the sick. Its path trailed a golden yellow as it wrapped around Jack's wound mending it slightly, and just as it became non-fetal the roses dampened and the quire silenced.

Still badly hurt, Jack felt his wounds mend as the pain numbed. In his misconstrued belief he muttered to himself 'Thank you…. UGH…. Ancestors.' The poor man was praying to continue the fight! The crowd applauded what they saw as good sportsmanship as the champions let Jack get up to his feet as he leaned on his sword to regain his footing. Now that he stood again, dried blood on his lip, scars on his body, and a magically sewn stomach he drew his sword again and prepared to fight. The sorceress smiled at him, and Jack smiled at her. The fool. She looked away from him at Colossus who stood right next to Jack. Jack looked at him in unfazed deadlock. Colossus held his shield in hand and lifted it up to his neck twice before he dropped it right before Jack. His sword too. He held it right underneath Jack's eye who maintained eye contact breaking it only after the sword parted with his flesh (leaving a small cut in its wake) before Colossus dropped it right next to him. From behind him, Colossus pulled from the sheathe attached to his back a massive two handed blade. The blade weighed nearly a ton! It was made from two blades identical to the one that nearly sawed Jack into two. Jack all the while smiled at his foe. Jack looked at his reflection in the sword he unusually held in his left hand and also tossed in away.

'OOOOOOOOH' the crowed concurred.

Jack then nonchalantly walked over the weapons rack, trailing his way there in blood yet careful not to grimace or grunt, took a bow and a quiver of fifteen arrows. From underneath his mane Jack looked up, bow in hand, narrowed his gaze towards Colossus and said to him from thirty meters away 'Come and get me!'

The crowd roared as Colossus lifted his two-hander with his right arm and cried before rushing into battle. Jack's smile remained as it was, his eyes fixed on his colossal foe who even from this distance towered over him. As colossus bellowed fear into Jack's heart, a great gust of melodic yellow pulses beat into Colossus' back from the witch's staff. That wiped Jack's smile from his face in a hurry. Jack had to be sure. He pointed the arrow at his Colossus' knee and fired. The arrow went right through the kneecap, but disintegrated into nothing before time could pass. Jack gasped in exacerbated plight understanding full and well what was happening. This gargantuan was about to charge into him and Jack could do nothing about it! He was being patched and healed from afar by the sorceress!

Jack did the only thing he could do. He scurried away from the man who like a train fell towards him. He was a mouse and Colossus' was a rhinoceros! Jack ran as fast as he could, although that was not fast enough. With each fifth step Jack took, Colossus was healed and filled with energy enough to make him sprint in that death trap of his! 'Perhaps if I could time it right…' Jack must have though in vain. CLICK CLOCK. His geta went with each hurl of his legs. 'THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD' the metal train ploughed towards him. 'CLICK CLOCK'. 'YEHAHAHAHAHA!' Colossus laughed as the thudded again towards him slightly slower. 'NOW!' Jack thought 'CLICK- WHOOSH!' he jumped into the air with all the strength he had left. He twisted his weight back so that he could see in his peripherally blocked vision, through the vines and shocks of clamped hair all flowing in front of him, Colossus just a few inches away. Jack pushed himself off his foe with his splintered Geta, a few even digging into his nails causing minor discomfort in relation to his predicament. With his aim true, quiver in hand, he let loose two arrows which found their way into Colossus' slit.

'AAAAAAAH! MY EYES!' he cried as he collapsed in his own darkness. Jack, who had no hope of landing on his feet skidded into the ground and fell twice more because of its quaking sensation. Jack rolled over to savor his victory with the privilege of his sight, only to see that which he could not fathom. A burst of warm summer breeze around illuminating an aura around his defeated foe, and up he came with vision as transparent as water.

Jack knew he could not waste a second further and again stumbled to his feet, only this time tripping just as quickly as he'd gotten up. Luckily, his foe was still getting accustomed to his restoration of sight and health, so he managed to reclaim his bearings and again paced away from his enemy only now without the spring of hope in his step.

'Click… clock… click... clock.' He went panting as he did. He looked at the sorceress in anguish as she continued to heal her comrade. 'That's it!' his Geta revealed to us. 'I must destroy him at the source.' 'CLICK CLOCK CLICK CLOCK' his steps spurred in a rejuvenated attempt at victory.

As he came halfway round the arena from the first eastern weapon wall to the western he spotted a small crystal dagger just a few paces away. He was determined to get his hands on it, but Colossus now was coming closer to him. His brief advantage grew thin as the rhinoceros came close to lifting him from his tunic and slamming him into the ground. Jack managed, somehow, to beat him to the punch grabbing the dagger and charging again right at the sorceress. Colossus lost his balance, but kept to his feet. Before he could charge again at Jack, the Samurai had already come close to the sorceress dagger in hand. His eyes widened as he charged at her. The dagger was pressed against his skin underneath the knot of this torn greaves. The sorceress however, paid little attention to him. After all, not even we in the circle saw him take the dagger. She relied on her own aura to push him away if he came close enough, and it would have. Jack didn't know there was even an aura around her when he leapt in the air and cried that infamous cry- only this time it was out of desperation not bravery nor glory, and that was true given that the recurring character of the sword in these scenarios became a measly bronze dagger. Although it was bronze, it was still sharp enough to break human skin, arcane or not. Whilst he was in the air, it was not the pulse that pushed him away. It was Kayj.

Interrupting the Samurai's death-heralding shout, Kayj leaped from his side and wrestled him to the floor. Before he knew it, the Samurai was on the floor being pounded on by a shirtless man with a scorpion tattoo on his bare, ripped chest. His muscular physique was so chiseled that one of biceps was as big Jack's face. His abdominal muscles were so hard that it hurt more to punch them than to be punched by him. He is beard caught droplets of Jack's blood as his fists hammered themselves into his face breaking whatever bone came into contact with his knuckles. He had no moustache and his eyes were obscured by dark sunglasses that served to demoralize his opponent, and indeed, when Jack finally managed to open his eyes in between blows he got a good look at himself. It was far, far worse than he thought.

The man that peered at him through the sunglasses was not Samurai Jack. Samurai Jack has a long rectangular face, diamond eyes, sharp poignant eyebrows that compliment those eyes to consistently give a look of bold and fearless stalwart bravery. His nose is straight and long, and his mouth is small and unpronounced. He maintained a dignified appearance with a traditional, albeit savage, kimono and a neat chongmage. The man that looked at him through the sunglasses was bent, broken horrifying, and ugly in every way. His nose was crooked and poured from its nostrils a bloody mucus moustache. His lips were as swollen as a sausage, his eyelids were as black as his hair, and the pupils as red as his blood with some yellow in place of the whites. The eyebrows were cut and shredded, and the hair unfurled into a bear trap that ensnared his entire face. There was no dignity in that shirtless, blooded, and bent man. There was only excess saliva where he was punched, and a shortage of sweat too as that pooled about a meter from him where the punches took them.

From the yellow of his eyes, Jack saw a benevolent sight. The dagger just a few fingers away. Jack turned the other cheek to get a better look at the thing, to try and drag it to him, but as soon as he did he got himself a mouthful of teeth as the punches began landing immediately and squarely on one side of the skull.

'HAHAHAHAHAHA!' Kayj laughed as he punched again and again. Jack's face fluttered and withered and grimaced and recovered and repeated once every second until his fingers finally got hold of the dagger. In his enjoyment, Kayj could not see what was happening. Jack stuck the dagger right into his liver and twisted it as far as he could.

'NYAAAAHhhh…ahh' was all the sound Jack's lungs could produce whereas Kayj's lungs sang in deep despair. Jack, the carcass he was, lugged his arm around his foe, and used Kayj's weight to swing himself on top of him. His hair dangled before his bated breath, and with what little energy he had he punched a sapling of a punch on Kayj's face. It left a redness, but nothing too major. Kayj even laughed through his own pain and didn't bother blocking as punch after punch feathered Kayj's cheeks and massaged his woes before Jack had to stop to regain breath.

Just then the train made a stop where they were and steel kneecap dented Jack's skull and sent him face first into his pool of sweat. The sorceress again wafted her incense to Jack's enemies, this time Kayj, and in no time the dagger became nothing and so did the wound. However, Kayj was not as fully fixed as Colossus because he was not her main focus. Beams of dark magic coursed through Colossus' veins as he once again lifted the two hander in his right hand alone. Jack, in his again deprived state tried to crawl up the tower, dagger in hand and placed it as strongly as he could inside Colossus' chainmail which it did not manage to dent let alone pierce. Colossus chuckled like spluttering tank engine in his deep, rumbling voice. 'You amaze me, Samurai. Even now you seek victory.' This comment cost us gravely. Everyone in the arena heard it.

'I….. Will….. Never… Give….. Up.' Jack said panting for all to hear and thunderously applaud as if Aku himself had come to the arena and showered us all in other worldly gifts. 'I…. must…. return…. to…. the….. Past.' 'Oh I can help you with that!' Colossus said as he snapped Jack's wrist and threw it down with the rest of his lazy arm and signaled for Kayj to come. Colossus lifted Jack like as if he were a children's plaything and handed him to Kayj.

'Hold him steady, now!' Colossus said as he lifted Jack's final hope, the shining dagger to waves of cheers that quickly deadened and morphed into boos as he stabbed Jack squarely in the heart, once, twice, thrice, and four times! The crowd would not have it! They threw rotten tomatoes at us, they booed, hissed, and broke their chairs. Father could not believe his eyes- not that Samurai Jack was as good as dead, but the crowd's reaction! This is what was truly unwitnessable, inconceivable, and inexcusable! Never mind the rest! That was all theater! Father stood form his seat and addressed the crowd, wine in hand.

'Good people!'

' **BOOOOOOO!'**

'Are you not entertained!?'

' **BOOOOOOO!'**

'Good people as requested, we have brought you the demise of Samurai Jack!'

The crowd continued to grow unsaturated and restless. Father began to lose it.

'But… But… WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT!?'

Then in unison they proceeded to chant

' _Khanees, Khanees, Khanees_ '

'Ahhhhh, you want the _full_ package…. Very well then.'

Father went closer to the rim of the balcony and attempted to speak to the sorceress. He made his hand into a sheet with all his fingers aligned and firmly pressed together and proceeded to cut the air in front of his throat before pointing at the seemingly lifeless body of Samurai Jack. 'Is he dead?' my father mimed to her. The sorceress placed all her fingers to her thumb and moved it up and down before taking the same hand to her heart and bringing index and middle finger to her eyes and then the same fingers to the tattered and broken Jack surrounded by the two men. 'Wait, I'll see.' she was miming. Father looked over with bated breath as she pulsed her warmth over him to no response. The crowd was silent as a snail. Again she pulsated. Nothing came of him. Again she pulsated for about ten seconds. Nothing. Again only this time more intense. Nothing. The crowd was visibly let down. They wanted to see Khanees fight Jack. Khanees who was waiting in his cell seeing all that was happening. He was not there because we put him there. He was there for the element of surprise. Unfortunately for us, we put his face next to Jack's on promotion material and that is why the crowd demanded to see him fight. Khanees was the reigning, defending Dome of Doom champion. No man has ever fought him and won. No man has ever fought him and lived to tell the tale.

Kayj and Colossus stared intensely into their fallen victim. Each of them desperately waited to tell us if they saw him breathe. Ten minutes passed, and nothing happened. The sorceress turned to father and shrugged. Father sighed as deeply as I had ever seen him and began.

'Forgive me good citizens.'

'AWWWWWWWWW!' they cried in protest throwing anything they could down into the arena.

'There is nothing I can do!' Father pleaded as people started walking out angrily.

'WAAAAAAIT!' Kayj cried 'HE'S ALIVE!'

I dropped my glass of wine onto the floor and bolted from my seat and indeed it was true. The cameras zoomed in and lo and behold there was a wrinkle on his left cheek.

'HE'S ALIVE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, HE'S ALIVE!' Father cried ecstatically and the audience erupted louder than a volcano and shook the arena more violently that Sumoto's failed belly flop!

'HEAL HIM!' Father implored. She looked at him distraughtly 'DO AS I SAY SLAVE! HEAL HIM!'

She shrugged and so she proceeded to heal him with cherubic heavenly tunes that wrapped themselves around him in an embrace of sorts. After another twenty seconds she looked at father again who this time mimed to her 'Don't overdo it, just enough for him to contest Khanees and die' by rotating his wrist anti-clockwise without doing anything to his hand other than keeping the fingers together and then placing his index finger to just above his right thumb before pointing to Khanees' cell. They both looked there and Khanees wasn't there. They both deferred that to later, but she did as he asked and by the time Jack's breathing returned to a sparse nature she stopped which was after thirty seconds or so.

The two men perched over him as crows to a meal. They saw his eyelids open up slowly much to the amusement of the crowd. 'Here we go again' Kayj said grabbing Jack by the forearm only to punch him back down with the velocity of two cannon balls. Kayj pulled his bicep back and make a fist aiming like a cobra on Jack's bruised face. His eyes looking down along with his down pointing chin. Just before Kayj thrust his fist forward with force Jack's chin looked up almost as if it were poising to get punched. Then, with a full set of teeth and a smile Jack said to him with determined zeal 'Wrong.'

Kayj's eyebrows rose from underneath the sunglasses and reflected in those same sunglasses Samurai Jack landed a blow on Kayj with _his_ fist which unlike Kayj's clutched something- an arrow! Jack stuck an arrow right into Kayj's cranium!

Father jumped up from his seat to reprimand the sorceress who looked as confused as father was angry. Immediately I knew what had gone wrong. As Jack ran from the corner he was trapped in I saw that no blood trickled from underneath his tunic. His wet scars looked dry and healed. Even his hair regained some sort of shiny vigor.

'Father!' I cried he looked at me in shock and I told him 'No blood!' he double took his gaze and looked back at me in horror as he pounded his scalp with his palms.

'No blood…..' he said as he looked to the madness that had befallen us. Then the slump in his posture straightened as he sat back in his char.

'What are we going to do?' I asked. Father ordered another bottle of wine for the table and said:

'Khanees.'

That bastard tricked us, and we fell for it. We healed him! But no matter. We were still confident in our plan, despite the several pitfalls that had befallen it. Little did we know how wrong we were.

As Jack ran from Colossus and Kayj, who had been fully healed by the sorceress, he finally finished his first lap around the arena. Now he was back to the eastern wall of weapons, but he took none of those. He still clung to his bow and his quiver of now elven arrows. He knew he had to use them wisely. As he darted past the halfway point where he had first engaged with colossus, he uncharacteristically ignored to take his sword, instead sticking with the ranged weaponry. He timed his moves carefully. Still with every fifth step _she_ healed him, and his speed in that bulking metal entrapment was faster than his in whatever was left of his light robe. Five steps after he ran past the sword he turned back and fired two arrows. One bounced off Colossus' chainmail, the other missed Kayj's head by a good ten centimeters. The sorceress saw both arrows and scoffed as she doubled down on healing Colossus, giving him an even faster boost, and a greater damage threshold. With nine arrows remaining, he tried again to avail, now three quarters of the way through to the end of the weapon wall. Time was scarce. Seven Arrows to go. Jack fired three this time. One for Colossus, one of Kayj, and one for the Sorceress. Colossus' arrow scratched his helmet just shy of his eye slit. He bawled at it hoarsely and provoked greater attention from Sorceress. Sorceress however, was preoccupied. Her arrow had come to her as she was about to heal Colossus before he'd nearly gotten struck. That arrow briskly shred through a few stray hairs and clipped a part of her ponytail. Kayj's arrow on the other had met its mark. The arrow landed rightly in the small intestine stopping him dead in his tracks. The sting of the arrow afflicted him significantly but not gravely. He caterwauled in a twinging ache taking Sorceress' full attention. Now was the true opportunity. Jack ran straight to the wall and with his right leg propelled himself forth and pushed himself from the wall with his left. Whilst soaring in the air he pulled his last four arrows and in that deciding instant, he closed his eyes and let go of the arrows.

The white feathers behind the arrows fluttered as in harmony with Jack's robe. As he soared through the air twisting forward to land on his feet the arrows continued to fly with Jack's fate attached to their wings. His wings were the shards of fell that thread in luscious continuum from his scalp. It was dynamic as ever waving as honestly as an imperial standard. His skilled hands brought balance to the fight. Sorely needed, but unplanned for balance. The fight, after this one maneuver, this one climactic flight of fair hair, became itself fair. Colossus' arrow hit right in the right eye. Kayj's arrow hit him rightly in his left breast. Sorceress had two arrows that flew parallel to one another. Their feathers not a hair a part. Truly, one of Jack's long hairs was the metric between them. That one thread changed the course of this fight. Sorceress didn't see it. She didn't see any of it. It all happened instantaneously. She poised her staff to the angle of her ponytail, expecting the arrows to hit there just as it did before, and just as Jack's arrows have routinely done to her comrades. To her grave misfortune, she had saved the fashionable allure of her hair, but not the vitality of her _Confluens Sinnum,_ the vein that leads directly to the brain.

As the arrow spiraled through her skull erasing her consciousness and memories with the every swift motion, a blank expression befell her as her muscles stiffened and finally relaxed permanently. She dropped the staff she had held in her left to deflect the feigning arrow as she collapsed on the floor behind her. The wood of the staff was not so durable, ancient as it was. It had cracked on first contact with the floor and split into two when her far more durable spine met with it there- turning the scales in Jack's favor.

When Jack landed on both feet, back straight, knees bent, weight forward he stood there motionless, quiver in hand. His hair which had danced like a flame as he fell now drooped silently and calmly around his face. It covered both his ears but none of his back. They caressed his wounds for him and obscured his smile from those in the stands. After a while, he stood up straight again and dropped the now string-less bow from his right hand and used the left to get loose of the empty quiver. As the quiver crawled up his scarred back, it pushed the coat of soft, damp, hair akin to fleece that had migrated from his chest to his upper back to lick the damage done there too. His eyes were still closed when Colossus wailed piercingly:

'Sorceress! Sorceress! My eye! Sorceress! Sorceress!' he sobbed tears of blood as he realized what the lack of response meant. Jack walked towards him and picked up his sword. He looked at him panting and squealing as he knelt there in disgraced defeat. I can only imagine that Jack thought of those times where he was down there and Colossus was up there laughing at him and mocking him.

'KILL'

'KILL'

'KILL'

'KILL' the audience chanted, but Jack instead sheathed his sword and tucked it neatly into his tunic. He managed this without his sash by untying it-revealing the indecent truth about our skepticism of his fearful urination earlier- and tied the tunic around it again. As a boy, I thought that he might spare him, that perhaps the legends of mercy and benevolence were true. Oh how naïve I was. The sword is too blunt, too weak, to cut through the helmet and shield Colossus protected himself with. Striking with it was futile. Jack needed something bigger, and the dome is ever generous with tools of doom and dismay.

Meanwhile, Kayj was struggling to get up, crawling, and tearing the atoms of the floor for some leverage to get up. The arrow in his chest stung him, but thankfully it didn't hurt any major organs- the layer of muscle was protective enough- but that was exactly what he needed to support his own weight: Muscle! Sure enough, he managed to shift his weight and balance it with his other strengths accordingly. By that time Jack had walked over to the weapons rack and took the largest mace he could carry. It was a mace that was about his height and a half. Jack dragged it behind him with great difficulty, with pace more akin to a tortoise than a man. The crowd, however loved every instant of it. They had never seen such proficient archery, let alone such beautiful gory art!

Colossus, who had fallen next to his shield managed to get to a knee when he saw Jack carrying the mace. His two-hander was at hand, but without her sorcery he was without weapon. Jack, didn't care for the fairness the children espouse to him nowadays. Instead, he continued to drag the mace towards Colossus. Colossus did not beg. Instead, he took the shield and used it to support his weight. He stood there before Samurai Jack, kneeling behind the shield. He was now equal to his height from a distance of ten meters. Colossus peeked from behind the shield and saw with his good left eye Jack coming towards him, edging towards him bit by bit- the red mace dragging him down. The mace was as heavy as Colossus' long sword- he should know- he fought with it routinely! He knew that a single bow with that blunt ball spiked with over one hundred little shards would spell death for anyone who received it. He also knew it took a lot of force to move the thing- even for Colossus' himself. Jack struggled and neighed with each meter he gained. Colossus saw his opportunity and bulldozed his way towards and indeed right into Jack's chest sending him a ways aback. Little did he know that Jack had tethered the mace to his right hand using the bowstring, and held onto it with both his hands! The mighty force that sent the athletic and muscular build of Samurai Jack's flying as it was flexed whilst holding a mace heavier than any other lent itself to the herculean task of ending Colossus' life. As Jack flew _to_ whence he came, the mace flew _fro_. Like a boomerang, the mace stalwartly clamped its rightful owner's head, ripping through his helmet, skull, and shield, and so Colossus was dwarfed.

Jack now had another problem. He was about two seconds away from again indenting the wall of our beloved dome, but this time eclipsing his indentation with that of the mace! It bellowed towards him at an incredible, sonic speed. At such a speed not only would it pierce very bone in his body, but it would crush him with its sheer weight, prick him with its shards, and turn him into a translucent membrane for oxygen and blood. With no time to spare, Jack unsheathed his sword and severed the bowstring from his wrist, careful not to cut open his own veins! He did, however inadvertently cut open his what was left of his robe, leaving us with the unsightly look of what he used to sanctify his genitalia. The savage wrapped them with some sort of gauze. It is, on his part I will admit, a small price to pay for one's life. With his trajectory detached from the mace's he rolled down to safety while mace exploded into the barricade injuring a good number of spectators.

As the dust settled amidst cheers of joy and shrieks of horror, Jack knelt on the bloodied floor and added to its tapestry with the blood that poured from his right knee which took the brunt of the fall. His eyes were completely fixated on Kayj who was barreling straight towards him. In his hands were sharpened claws of bone, and in his eyes nothing but Samurai Jack. Behind Samurai Jack's now closed eyes were no thoughts but of Kayj. He stayed there, kneeling, listening, and sensing every step of his foe's feet and every contraction of his muscles as they carried Kayj towards him- lying in wait. His hair now caped around his skull covering the back of his neck in its entirety caught itself in the breeze of Kayj's momentum. The breeze was light, but present. As he grew closer the moment grew more intense. Now the clump at his back began to vibrate in the wind while the two tresses that crossed his left eye stopped moving to and fro with his breathing. Instead they stayed as they were- perfectly still. His exhaling was not force enough to move them forward, nor was Kayj's momentum enough to move them back. It was only when the strand on his right eye began to fly away did Jack open his eyes, unsheathe his sword towards his foe only to have it caught by those bone-claws.

The blade was trapped there in a gridlock of knuckles. One half of the blade kept Kayj's left knuckles away from his right ear, and the other half kept the right claws away from his left ear. Jack placed all his weight behind the blade as Kayj's momentum forced him back a few shoulder lengths. It was the friction of the geta that brought them all to a halt, but the lock was still fierce as ever. It took Jack an incredulous amount of focus and inner strength to keep the hold as long as he did. Neither one would budge. Jack kept both hands glued to the blade, Kayji kept both hands locked on either side. Jack grinded his teeth as the force began to mount against him. It was getting too difficult for him. Sweat beads rushed from his temple, crossed his eyelids, down his nose and through to his chin. Kayj, on the other hand barely broke a sweat. Through the exhaustion, Jack let out one single wimp. That was enough to draw Kayj's attention.

'Had enough?' he said through the gridlock. Jack maintained his silence, but his facial features betrayed him. His stiff eyebrows had gone soft. When he opened his eyes to look at his foe, his foe saw the weakness in his eyes. The steeled look of determination was gone. There was only exhaustion there. Kayj pressed the advantage. He broke of his left claw and thrust it right where Jack's saw-wound was. Jack's eyes widened, pupils dilated as the thrust made him lean forward towards both bone and blade. He let out a terrible, echoing hack as he croaked on his blood as it spat forward through his mouth. Jack's hair covered the blade and little strands began to fall as the blade kept jostling to and fro the combatants. Through the pain and agony Jack reflected on himself in the sword. Again, the man in the sword was not himself. He was hopelessly tired with bags under his eyes, and blood in his teeth. Teeth that no sooner than they saw themselves locked in determined vengeance. Eyebrows tilted, eyes narrowed, Kayj pulled out the invading bones from Jack's stomach forcing him to fight for air again letting out another terrible bark. Kayj kept his right steadily on the blade as he rolled his shoulder for a second strike. Then through some sheer will, Jack's right knee which had supported him through this entire ordeal pushed back, and rolled Jack into the fray. With a single, maddening shove of his blade, Jack cut open his left hand, but broke apart the lock while Kayj was getting ready to end the night. Off balance and overconfident, he let his ego drown his triumph while Jack's patience overcame with a swift strike across the Adam's apple ending Kayj himself. Kayj clamped his neck as he looked at Jack in disbelief and said to him 'How!?' in his dying breath. Jack looked up through the walls of hair that again blocked his peripheral vision along both cheeks and said 'I stood my ground' before cutting Kayj into two- bottom up.

As the crowd drummed and danced Jack did not rest easy. There was still one more champion. One more who would seek to kill him. Jack did not move. He stood there, casting a shadow over Kayj. He finally lowered his blade as the cheers began to drown out the sorrow. Jack collected his mane on the left side, over Kayj's corpse. With the postiche gathered on the left, Jack ran his blade right through the middle of it and moved it forwards. He clumped it all up in his left hand, placed in his right and gently scattered in the partition between Kayj's genitalia, all the way up to his brain. It is a savage thing, unsanitary too, but it's not like Kayj needs to worry about illnesses. This is one of the few things I respect about Samurai Jack despite his evil nature. Aside from is formidable fighting ability, the man honors those who best him in combat. Yes, it is a barbaric honorific ceremony, but honorific nonetheless. As Jack drew away his sword into an upright position again in his right hand, he lifted what was left of his coif in his left hand. He ran the blade underneath it, all with his eyes closed, and flexed his muscle to run through the rest of it. Just as he started to cut through the tresses he saw them fall irregularly. There was no draft. There was no wind.

Jack opened his eyes immediately and ran through the rest of the coiffure, only this time he kept it in his left fist. He right around and threw the hair in front of him and swung the blade across Khanees' belly.

Khanees had fallen from the top of the dome with two blades in hand. He had both of them directly perpendicular to Jack's shoulders. The idea was to quite literally _disarm_ Samurai Jack. Had it not been for that pitiful little ceremony our grandiose plan would have worked.

Ever the showman Khanees won father's approval and favor the very first day he'd fought. He'd immortalized himself and his tactic in two famed sayings. 'A true coward runs not from his opponent, but from himself.' Indeed he saw Jack as a coward for spending the entirety of the fights running away. He _ran_ from Colossus, he _ran_ from Kayj, and he _ran_ from Sorceress. These things made Jack look miniscule and insignificant before Khanees. Khanees never ran. Not once. Not when faced with a dwarf and not when faced with a giant. He always fought and it is that fighting spirit that gave him matches won. His unwavering courage and death-defiant antics won the hearts and minds of fans and won him infamy amongst the champions themselves. Sorceress herself dreaded the eventuality of fighting against Khanees, knowing that she wouldn't be able to heal herself and hurt him quickly and efficiently enough to win. Khanees always said 'Many receive advice, but only the wise profit by it.' That was hearsay. He only said it to confuse enemies into thinking not of the fight but of his mysticisms. His last mysticism was always 'You can hide, but you cannot run.' He always believed in that. He always took his time when fighting, and those who ran from him never escaped him. Khanees hid from Jack, but did not run from him. He attacked him from behind, but did not fear him. It was Jack's anticipation of battle that allowed him to win. Had the crowd not called for Khanees, had they not betrayed his tactic, then Jack would have been cut down. Instead, only his hair cut itself down- and there he stood before us tall, alive, and well.

Jack cut Khanees left to right at the belly ejecting his top half from his bottom half. His blood gushed from within and covered both Jack and the entire arena. His body now reddened not only by his blood, not only by the Aqualiser's blood, but by Khanees' blood too. By throwing that lock of hair at Khanees, his balance was undone, his focus disrupted, and opportunity created-disaster (for Jack) averted.

Jack killed Khanees so quickly the crowd didn't even have time to formulate what they had just seen. In fact, they hadn't known it had been Khanees who had descended from above until they had seen the wreck he had become. His arms were attached to the torso half of his body and his legs were one meter from Samurai Jack. He had shoulder length white hair- information not even I knew at the time since his white turban came undone after impact- brown skin, and a long grey beard that stretched to his chest. Even the red ruby in his turban cracked on impact with the floor dampening its crimson tint into a brownish maroon. His belly bulged out like a cannon ball, and his legs were skinny as drumsticks. All he wore were an orange pair of pantyhose and black suspenders to hoist said pantyhose. It seems arrogance had gotten so far into Khanees' mind- being the undefeated champion for two years- that he could not see a situation where he could not best anyone one on one. Such a sad demise for such a talented warrior.

Jack looked at the torn ribbons that Khanees turned into in a clout of confusion and disgust. He looked around-still sword in hand- to see if this really was Khanees, not some rabid fan. He only realized he had finally one when father addressed the crowd who all throughout chanted mystically and hypnotically 'Two Sandals!' 'Two Sandals!' 'Two Sandals!' Indeed our plan accounted for all but one thing: the crowd loves an underdog.

'Ladies and Gentlemen…. This is not how I expected this night to end. This is not what I had promised. But you have made your desires known. Ladies and Gentleman, I give you TWO SANDALS! CHAMPION OF THE DOME OF DOOM!'

The crowd wildly wept and applauded this tapestry of terror! Never before had they seen such carnage culminate in such cryptic ways! Jack however remained motionless. His eyes fixed on the ground. His posture still upright. He walked over to the broken staff, sacrilegiously rolling over Sorceress with his left heel, and looked at it intensely. It had lost its spark, its aura, and everything unique about it. It had become nothing more than a twig. A shriveled, old, dirty, twig. Jack just looked right through it, as if there was still some consciousness in it. He picked up both halves and mashed the two broken halves together repeatedly to no avail. He was hoping they would magically come alive again. He looked at sorceress thumb which had the magical golden ring on it, and wore it himself and continued mashing- nothing.

'Ladies and Gentlemen, you have honored us with your presence and you shall see more of Two Sandals next week when he faces Gargantuan the Impossible!'

The audience, half of whom had begun to proceed outside of the arena to beat the traffic applauded for a short while. They're hands had grown weary of applauding and their throats had soared from yelling and shouting. It's safe to say, that they had the time of their lives. Their short, miserable, lives.

It was only when Jack heard that he was being sent back to the prison cell that his eyes widened from the sleepy hollow they'd been as he banged the staff for a good four minutes. He looked behind him without moving his head and saw through his short waves of hair-which blocked his vision no more-four of our men; captain included. He drew his sword, gallivanted into the air and before the second was up he had descended to and through three of them. Captain's head rolled from his shoulders over to Jack's feet. Jack put his head on the man's decapitated face and looked squarely at the last of the guards. The expression on our man's face was not dissimilar to Jack's moments ago. An expression of hopeless anguish. Without saying a word, his left leg backed up from him. Through the three stray hairs that blocked the edges of his both his eyes, the second dangling in between, Jack looked directly into his soul and said:

'No.' He narrowed his eyes to the man's heart and said 'There is no escape.' With wild roars of violent torment, he lunged at him, slicing his heart into four pieces, his limbs into five, and his torso into two.

'Jack!' father cried from the balcony

'It's over! There is no need to continue!'

Without turning around Jack moonsaulted from below up to the balcony and drew the sword to my father's heart.

'Is this what you call entertainment!' he lectured us all. 'The senseless slaughter of innocents!?'

'Jack.' My father said trying to waft away the blade which stayed firmly pressed against his flesh. 'These are not innocents.' Jack's gaze remained as enflamed as ever engulfing father's tongue. 'Th-these are slaves!'

'Do slaves not have value!?' Jack said in a fit.

'Certainly.' Father said. 'They have value so long as they sell tickets!'

Jack bent down such that his face pressed against father's who otherwise looked up at him from the height of his belly button. 'Give me a reason not to cut you down right now!'

Father looked at me, and briefly so did Jack. I saw the anger, the pure black hearted rage within him. Yet, at that moment his composure was slick as ever, and his hair did not betray any intention of undue violence. Instead, it formed a flat-top where the pony tail used to be and briefly tickled his collar bone on either side. I saw the dried scars on his body and spine when he turned again to face my father. I saw underneath the slick grasp of greasy hair threads which licked the end of his cervical spine. I saw the dried tears in his eyes and cheeks, and smelled the foul stench of which he reeked. His sweat smelled of despair, his breath smelled of hunger and discipline, and the iron in which he was coated smelled of sadistic levels of brutal carnage!

'Because they have broken the law!' Father said in a confident demeanor, voice high pitched and assertive.

'And this gives you the right to slaughter them like animals!?'

'Yes! Because they have slaughtered members of this community in the same way!'

Jack kept his sword there, but his expression gave in.

'Khanees was a child molester, Gordo was rapist, the Aqualiser was a pirate, Sorceress was- well- a sorceress, Colossus was a murderer, and Kayj was mobster! These are not good people down there!'

Jack was quieted for an instant. He looked down at his blade, pondered in thought. He saw himself there, bashed and abused. 'What had I done to deserve this?' he must have asked himself. The man who had the answer was on the other end of the blade, so he asked him:

'What about me?' Jack said. 'What have I done to be here?'

Father sighed one last time. He looked Jack right in the eye and grasped his blade with both hands- blood dripping down his fingers and onto Jack's Geta. He said to him:

'You are rabble rousing riff-raff, a bad influence for this community, and they must see that even the most legendary alleged heroes can be defeated!'

Jack looked as a bewildered sight, shook his head and said to him:

'Wrong. I fight to undo the evils Aku! I fight to return to the past and vanquish the wretched demon once and for all!'

'Aku has given us life after death. He has given us prosperity and development, so be it if it is at the cost of earthly dominions! You do not fight for what is right, you fight for your _princely_ right!'

That line wounded Jack far more than any of the blows he'd been dealt that night. It was a thing that puzzled him in the mind and soul. I saw it in those few seconds when father's blood dripped at a slightly slower pace- when Jack's grip was weakened. Before long, blood splattered as quickly as ever and Jack said to him:

'No! You must listen!' Jack said to him. For the first time Samurai Jack met a man who would not buy into his false narrative.

'I have listened enough.' Father said as he pulled the sword towards himself and thrust himself towards the sword. Jack looked in trembling trepidation as father commit suicide on Jack's own blade. We, in the circle all panicked and instinctively hid underneath our seats- not that it would do us any good.

The elixirman had tears in his eyes. Father to him was like a brother just as his son is my brother. Jack regained himself and with the sword still stained with my father's blood he cut into pieces the console that summons the slaves and out they came looting and tearing the place apart like the criminals they were.

Jack stood there in ultimate, final, climactic victory as if he'd done something to make the world a better place when all he did was release a bunch of henchmen and gangsters who could not be constrained neither by society nor by its institutions. The dome, now running amuck in vandalism and disgusting fumes of illicit-arson was a proud institution of fairness and justice. It was the logical next step for a failing prison system- one where society needn't pay for their comfort, but for their utility!

I will never forget this last act of bravery. The elixirman put his left hand in his lab coat pocket and flung a small test tube of blue liquid into the arena- Into Khanees' better half. Jack heard the glass break as we all did, but paid little attention to it. Instead he cared to lecture us and said:

'Where is the exit from this place?'

The elixirman's boy from underneath his sorrow and through the lulls in his sniveling bawls pointed to the corridor behind the Samurai and Jack turned to walk away only to immediately return and say to my friend and I:

'It will be all right.'

'Hey! Leave him alone!' the countess said. Jack looked at her fat bulge calmly and without malice and said

'Whose boys are these?'

'Mine!' the elixirman said. 'They're mine. Now go, be on your way, you've done enough for a day's work.'

Jack signed just as father has as he kneeled again this time addressing me:

'Do not reopen this barbaric place.'

And he walked right through the door. Just as his silhouette began to disappear a great arm stretched itself from behind us, through the corridor and clamped its fingers around his ribcage. With Jack firmly in its grasp, the arm contracted over to the center of the arena only to reveal itself as belonging to Khanees! Only now, Khanees was several times taller, and had four instead of two arms! He was a giant of a man, his legs resembling towers more than they resembled limbs. Jack was caught in his grip, and he tried to free himself to no avail. In his right arm was the sword and his face was raw, bewildered, fear. 'How!?' he must have thought. 'The Elixir.' The elixirman said. 'I knew it would work!' he laughed through the pain as Khanees in a distorted, undead, mechanical, monotonous, disrupted voice said:

'A true coward runs not from his opponent, but from himself.'

Jack narrowed his vision one more time, and thrust the sword into Khanees hand as if it were a tombstone in the sand. Khanees reflexively let go of the Samurai and sent him tumbling to the ground- without his sword. Khanees brought the sword to his eye as Jack landed like a cat on the ground. Khanees plucked it out as if it were a thorn and tossed it away far from where I could see. Jack stood there, his head not reaching past Khanees' toenail, his eyes abound at the stupendously monumental man before him. His white and red turban covered his scalp, and his beard was white as yogurt and extended down to his stupendously massive chest. Jack's sword twinkled in the distance west of his position and so he scurried in its direction only to have Khanees block his path with the palm of his hand. Jack turned around the other way and was blocked by the other hand. Jack ran towards us and was blocked again this time by the third palm. Jack ran towards him, but before Khanees could lower his palm Jack slid underneath in his underwear- or so he thought. Khanees simply moved his palm back by a negligible amount and trapped Jack in a literal box. Jack looked at Khanees from within his predicament, and Khanees looked at him with a focus. A red glow embraced the ruby in Khanees' turban and out came a burst of death that Jack narrowly avoided. Khanees fired again and again, and Jack gymnastically cartwheeled his way out of harm's way until he finally vaulted onto and then over the second hand that blocked him from the west. Jack sprinted to his sword firmly encrusted into the floor of the Dome running past sorceress' corpse along the way. Jack stretched out his arm, felt the tip of the hilt underneath his fingernail, and broke that fingernail when Khanees had him in his grasp again. Khanees lifted him up to fire the death ray at him again. Jack was stuck, and there was nowhere he could go. It was just he, Khanees, and lady death. Jack squirmed and squeamed as he tried to find a way out, his head bobbing relentlessly to get away until it hit something. Jack looked above him and saw it was the roof! He looked around him and saw the dome was spherical. Sound would intensify itself as it circled round! Just as the death ray was about to leave the ruby Jack swallowed as much air as he could and catapulted it out of his lungs with as much force as he could muster. The scream itself was rather ordinary, but with each passing moment, the sound echoed and bellowed, doubled, and trebled, until it turned into an unbearable war horn that sent anguish into the hearts of men and dissonance into their minds. Even the slaves who were spraying their initials on the wall or killing the patrons stopped what they were doing to cover their ears lest they rupture and deafen. The expedition of this voice was precipitated by the propelling willpower in his vocal cords which acted as rockets flying little decibels into the atmosphere to create a goliath of sound. Khanees couldn't handle it. First he took his first right hand and his first left, and when that couldn't block the sound which was loud it cracked the stone in his legs- a byproduct of the elixir- he used his remaining two hands to reinforce the other two in blocking the sound. Khanees let go of Jack sending him plummeting to his doom, or at the very least mortal peril, but Jack did not let go of Khanees. Jack cut the song, and held onto Khanees' thumb as it rushed towards his ear. Jack realized he had sparse time to execute his deathly plan. The shout continued to echo, but without a source it was only a matter of time before Khanees would reopen hostilities. As soon as he was close enough, Jack swung off of the thumb and climbed onto his face. Khanees opened his eyes only to see Samurai Jack climbing over his eyebrows. Khaness tried to shoo and swat the insect to no success. Jack stole the ruby and slid down Khanees's waving arms like a jungle man leaping from arm to arm instead of branch to branch. Jack rolled onto the floor and raced towards his sword again with the ruby in his left hand and his right hand outstretched to meet the sword which was still encrusted on the side of the weapon wall of the dome. Khanees drew his weapons- four scimitars and lunged towards Jack who at the same time dropped the ruby onto the staff and caught his sword.

Jack drew his weapon against the limitless foe and Khanees drew his scimitars against his formidable prey. Khanees in that massive physique slid towards Jack as quickly as a horse galloped catching Jack's blade with his first swing. Thus the duel commenced. Jack leapt towards Khanees' torso only to be forced to deflect two of his swords instead of slashing his Bely again. Upon landing both men swung their swords in the same directions flaying as they did it. Their swords did not share the same dust filled patch for more than half a second as Khanees tried to flank Jack with his arms, and Jack barely kept up with parrying. Between successive this, Jack tried to land a blow of his own often failing. Each time he tried to cut Khanees' Khanees defended himself first. Khanees had the upper hand. He saw him like a dot from up above and saw his actions before Jack saw Khanees'. In fact, Khanees' probably read Jack's thought process like a book knowing how combat is both down there and 'up here'. Their swords clanged as steel met steel. Their souls made of steel harder than their swords. No man would give the other ground. Jack parried and blocked more than he would have wanted to. Jack stood to the side and blocked the right diagonal, he stood forward and blocked the left diagonal, and he stood front facing and blocked attacks from beneath him. The attacks became so frequent that Jack had to move his body in more diverse ways. First he jumped, then he ducked, all the while blocking attack after attack. Khanees' behavior however grew more and more erratic and unpredictable. He began to make sounds. Sounds as if he were sick. Jack paid little attention to them, until of course _it_ happened.

From Khanees back grew two more sword arms _with_ their swords in hand! Jack looked in anguish as even his shortened hair grew thicker in worry and remorse. Jack had to devise newer tactics lest his antics fail him. He began blocking whilst kneeling and rolling all around. He was trapped not by Khanees' palms, but by his swords. Any attempt to gain a better footing would lead to losing a foot! Jack had to think quickly. As Khanees' attacks increased, and more swords came at him from more sides, Jack took a risky decision. Instead of blocking the blades, he started severing the thumbs! He did this once and sure enough, Khanees could hold on to the sword no more. Khanees' blood was as blue as the elixir thrown at him, and it gushed out onto the floor creating a sticky texture. It flowed all over Jack's sword arm, and it wouldn't fall off. Khanees' however, did not change his fighting style. He kept up the pressure without even showing a wince of pain. Khanees again fought with a relentless combination of attacks with his five arms. Jack slipped and weaved through them blocking them each with his sword, but he was bound to make a mistake sometime. As Jack turned around to gain enough momentum to sever another one of Khanees' thumbs, Khanees swiftly cut a deep wound into Jack's sword arm. The wound was so deep that Jack had to let go of the sword only to desperately catch in his left hand. The wound stung more than usual as it pierced the blue coating of the bloody elixir. Before Jack could get up, his sword was already in its rightful hand, and Jack's shoulder was good as new. Even Jack looked surprised as he eyed his wound in the midst of renewed combat. It was the elixir! The elixir healed him just as it healed Khanees! Jack continued fighting, blocking swords everywhere until a new gap emerged and he cut off another thumb! This time it was a right thumb, and thus a right sword that was disarmed. Again Khanees showed no hesitation and pressed the attack with his usual four arms.

Jack was now Jack was trapped on the left and right by dead swords. Now was his chance. Jack quickly began terminating his own ground until he came shoulder to shoulder with his mirror image on the left blade on his right side. He kept parrying the attacks until finally a favorable blow came to him from the only direction Khanees had left- his right. Jack held his sword aloft and met all four blades with nothing but brute strength. His sandals supported him as Khanees' enormous weight overpowered him. They slid back until they hit that which Jack had planned for: the fallen scimitar. Jack stood against the mountainous creature, his arms vibrating in fatigue, and his brow shivering in the cold that his sweat couldn't enervate for him. His muscles were about to given, all his muscles save for his heart which continued to pump blood in generous quantity throughout his mind and body.

As the two were locked once again in sword combat, neither man able to unlock their blades from the other Khanees said to Jack another one of his proverbs:

'You can hide but you cannot run.'

Jack opened his eyes to a truth he blindly couldn't see. Khanees stature left wide gaps between his blades and Jack's katana. Jack let Khanees in more, and more until the gap was just wide enough for Jack to scurry through. Khanees on the other end, closed his scimitars and clapped them against Jack's mirror image in the fallen sword. Khanees realized his error quickly and turned around to find Jack racing towards the staff and ruby. He could not have them. Khanees, kicked Jack over to the other side of the wall, and the same predicament presented itself again, and again the warriors danced the dance of death. This time however, Khanees' erratic behavior was far more volatile. His twists and turns were faster and more crooked. The intensity was greater, but the accuracy was lesser. Jack seized the opportunity to want for more and lunged towards his foe in aggression. Khanees' attacks more frequently met no flesh as Jack accustomed himself to them. When Khanees attacked with a sweep across the floor Jack jumped up and before the other blades could meet him, he severed the arms behind them sending them down with a vengeance. Once again two blades blocked Jack's path to the left and to the right. As Jack fell back to the ground, his ribs were colored blue in Khanees' blood, a sight to revel in and behold. Khanees only smiled. He wouldn't fall for that trick again. He may have been large, but he wasn't a fool. He lowered all his arms and trapped Jack on the ground with swords all around. If Jack dared jump, the blades would eat him up. Jack stood there as Khanees emitting a round rumbling noise until he climactically shrieked as two arms came out of where there was once only one!

Khanees, in his hulking dominant physique looked at the puny Samurai and said: 'Many receive advice, but only the wise profit by it!' Jack looked at him in awe, then in calculated examination to find an opening where none existed. The legend tells eight arms stood the test of Samurai Jack, but in reality it was Samurai Jack who withstood the test of eight arms! It was one man VS a gigantic humanoid octopus! The flurries thereafter were precise and fiendishly quick. Jack couldn't keep up. If there was a blade here there were four blades there, and if there were four blades there, there were two blades here. It was a nightmare. The only thing that made it worse was the itching, tingling, and soreness under Jack's arms near his ribs.

As Jack fought he couldn't stop thinking about it. I knew I wouldn't if I were him. 'How is it that a man could be revived after such a decisive defeat? How is he growing out new arms?' In his mind, as he fought Jack harkened back to our encounter in the circle. The glass shattering. The man in the lab coat. The way he defended my friend and I. The way he stood unfazed when a giant arm came at the Samurai. 'The Scientist!' he exclaimed. He looked down at his ribs and they had begun to permeate and bulge. They were preparing to grow him a pair of arms! If that happens, then it's only a matter of time before Jack becomes too encumbered to fight and live!

As the duel continued, Jack's expression grew paler as he realized that time was once again, and more immediately, not on his side. The tingling grew more unbearable and the bulge grew rounder and more swollen as time passed. It began distracting from the fight as the pain it caused him was more than the pain Khanees' cuts could inflict. Similarly though, Khanees' flurries grew more and more inaccurate. Jack would stand to the east, and Khanees would vanquish would stood in the west, until ultimately he would hit nothing. He could barely control his own arms. That was until Jack noticed that Khanees's teeth grinded against themselves and his eyes were sealed shut. 'It's in his blood!' Jack must have finally deduced.

As Khanees' pain intensified and his attacks continued to stray further and further away from the target. Jack took a breath and thought deeply as to what he would do.

'Fighting is useless. If I cut one arm, two more will come in its place. If I cut nothing, two more will come _from_ nothing. Eventually, he will be too encumbered to fight. He is beaten by time. Now it is my turn.' Jack must have thought. Jack looked at his sword, and threw it into the air towards Khanees' shoulder and there it got lodged. Khanees' attacked slowed, but continued nonetheless. His blue blood spat out from the right shoulder to the floor far behind him. Jack took a deep breath, looked at his pulsating wound and clutched for the last time to stem the pain. He somersaulted through the air, and just as he got right underneath Khanees' misguided attacks, Jack guided his limbs towards them.

Khanees' blade severed Jack's arms from the shoulder down, ripping away the external layer of flesh over the ribs. With that flesh the bulge was perfused and a dark blue puss leaked from it, and within that puss was a small, flexed, arm awaiting release.

Jack landed face first onto the canvas, shrieking and wailing in agony. His screams broke glass, and extinguished flame. Not even the echoing screams from earlier managed that. He ran over to the staff, grunting, squealing, and moaning in suffused affliction. Next to the staff was a blue, thick, liquid. Jack removed his geta just in front of it and jumped over the droplets to land next to the staff. He knelt over its carcass and used his feet- careful not to get any of the blue on them- to move both halves of the staff towards the elixir.

Khanees struggled in anguish as two more arms came from his spine. The added arms tipped over Khanees balance and he crumbled to the side. The fall shook the stadium, and Jack's efforts to align the two halves of the scepter, but it did not shake his will. As Jack's feet managed to get the staves to scoop us some of the elixir in a last ditch attempt to end this, he bound the two halves together and melodic tune played. A golden waft sprang from the staff towards Jack's body and squeezed him tightly. The pain he was in felt like a bed of thorns tearing at his flesh, and this golden perfume turned the scars into flowers, and the pain into comfort. Each wrapping and toiling and curling of the golden smoke reduced the pain further and further until Jack felt as if he were lying on the lap of a siren. A glitter filled the air, as his kidneys hydrated with aqua and oxygen. His shoulder sockets began to mend and arms began to grow out of them. His ribs bound themselves underneath white, muscular, flesh. Nourishment filled his body, his wounds went away and his mind was briefly at peace as it must have been during our deception. His senses were rejuvenated and a taste and taste of milk and honey filled his tongue as he allowed himself to fall into the ease the staff provided. His cells mingled in delight and his broken nails restored themselves. His shortened hair entangled again into the prominent mane he was accustomed to and by itself it tied into his chongmange. Even his ribbon came to him crawling through the dome and banded his hair together as though it were sentient. His shoulders felt a ripe massaging, until finally it served him no further purpose to linger in this brief paradise.

Jack sat up only to see his foe wrestling with his own arms to lift himself off the ground. Jack stood, fully clothed in his garb and kimono, and simply placed Khanees' ruby on the tip of the staff, securing it there manually.

By the time Khanees sluggishly turned around and faced Jack he had ten arms and had lost the ability to slide and quicken his pace. In a steady, unbalanced, uneven, sluggish pace he marched with his back slouched forward, and his head tilted backwards towards his foe. Jack stood his ground and called out to him:

'Many receive advice Khanees. But only the wise profit by it.' Khanees dropped his swords to block his eyes, face, and chest to no avail. Jack unleashed the might of the ruby and within seconds Khanees' shrieked a loud, screeching wail as he demolished into dust and ruble. His screams echoed and tarnished as his essence withered away into oblivion never to be seen again.

Finally, Jack stood wholly, and undeniably triumphant with no champions to steal away his glory, and no slaves brave enough to face him. Instead they brought chaos down on the dome, littering and slaughtering _true_ innocents.

Jack, in the midst of the dome stood with the staff in his reclaimed right arm and walked over to the dust where the sword awaited him. While he walked he put the staff in his left and grasped the sword with his right when he got to Khanees' remains. He jerked it out of the rubble and the last of Khanees' screams finally died out. Jack had won.

At that point the elixirman asked me to join him and his son in fleeing from the dome. The women has already done so. They had done so just before Jack dueled Khanees. I refused. I decided to stay there- at the circle. I would not abandon it. Moreover, it was the safest place in the arena. It had a private exit that could only be opened from the inside. Who knows what rapists are out there? Who knows what they'll do to us? The elixirman didn't care for my supposedly 'juvenile' concerns. He took his son and left. I accompanied them so far as the exit so I could make sure that nothing would come in after me.

When I returned Jack was still there. Destruction engulfed the arena, but Jack didn't care to stop it. All he could look at was the staff and how it jostled around in his hand apparently involuntarily. Jack stood tall and wide, his robe briefly fluttering at the base in carbon monoxide fumes. His feet were firm and his eyes were steady. His ponytail had not a hair out of place, nor did his forehead have a drop of sweat on it. All there was his chest brazenly outstretched and his determined, piecing, gaze at the staff. Jack stared at it intensely, then looked off into the distance. He was pondering something; something big. Then, he thrust his staff wielding arm forward and from nothing came a _warp_.

It was spherical thing with sharp, fluctuating, black concave borders. Its inside radiated with white and black rings swimming in their own private orbit. Jack looked at it in disbelief, eyes wide, lips parted, and ponytail fluttering in awe. The portal sucked the air from the room and drew out all the colors. The eastern side of the room looked noir while the western side of the room still had some color in it. Jack in his monotonous robes looked at the still red ruby ordained staff as it gyrated out of control in his hand. He narrowed his eyes, trued his focus, sharpened his steps, and away he went racing towards the portal. Each step he took made his Geta look greyer and his the grey in his robe started to look as black as his eyebrows. Before he made it halfway there, the portal gave out a burst of green. Jack quickened his pace and crossed over Sorceress' noir corpse. Her jewelry then flickered in green and red as it reflected the beams of stoppage light that intermittently came from the portal. When Jack was just ten meters away, the portal gave of signals of light, yellow, green, orange, and purple, until the whole rainbow danced within it. Its size shrunk and expanded randomly, its borders extended and grew miscellaneously. Jack was determined to get into it, he stuck his arm out as he got five meters from it when in turned an into a blinding white box, shrunk into a tiny trapezium, and exploded in awesome, sinuous, stoutness obliterating all the wrenches, screws, and rivets that held the dome together.

Jack was flung to the far opposite corner of the dome, past the staff, and into the wall which already carried his indent. His knot unfurled into a messy plant with branches and leaves of tress all over his face. The knot, however, was still good as his mane did not cascade down onto his body-yet. His back smacked against the wall and absorbed much of the impact. He lay there, dressed in his finest robes, and defeated once again having been a hair away from returning to the past.

The dome began to fall apart. The sunroof broke into a thousand pieces, the structural beams and columns gave way, the circle shook a violent stir of emotions and feebleness, until what I can only presume to be a piece of the sunroof found itself on my head.

I woke up the next day underneath the rubble of my father's dome. I crawled out of my grave, following the light to the surface gasping for straws and air on my way out. When I got out, I saw that my legs were not what they used to be. They were battered, bruised, and bloodied. My head made me see the sun twice and thrice. This turned out to be the beginning of my epilepsy. Because of that incident I am now forced to wear a red pair of unfashionable sunglasses wherever I go to mitigate the effects of the disease. At the time, I did not have a mirror to assess myself in, and so my condition deteriorated. Despite the pain and suffering I felt, and the pain in suffering around me I had but one thing on my mind: Samurai Jack. I looked around, and Samurai Jack was nowhere to be found. The man who claims to be a hero for the deserted; deserted me there and left me under the rocks to die.

But the weight of those rocks couldn't stop me. The weight of his victory will not stop me. I left that place in search of my village. I had passed by a village whilst walking and I had wished those poor villagers well. They're streets ran with blood, and their businesses ached of bankruptcy. I noticed the graffiti on the walls from the rubble I had crawled through; the 'innocent' slaves did this. This is Samurai Jack's doing. I vowed vengeance on him before I saw the village square and the grouping of villagers there. I saw the Elixirman and knew that this unrecognizable village was _our_ village. They had gathered there with a few corpses of the slaves we had rounded up two days prior. I thought they were asleep. I though their homes were ransacked and they needed to have safety in numbers. Oh how wrong I was. These corpses gathered here and fought until the last man in defense of the now lost village. Those slaves came here and ransacked every piece of gold we have here. There are only two explanations for this. Either the slaves migrated to the next village or Samurai Jack slew them and took the gold himself. In any case I didn't want to seek out trouble for myself. I sat there weeping, hoping a good man would come for me. There was none. Society after Samurai Jack is not what it used to be. I waited perhaps the elixirman's boy would come. Gone. When I realized that I was left to fend for myself I scurried off into the woods in pursuit of a quitter, nomadic life. I would eat from the river basin and sleep under the trees. I would learn to fight before I would learn to breed, and that is how I grew up in the wilderness.

Now, good academy, I write to you having overcome the challenges of the wild. Seventeen years of nomadic perseverance have passed since that day, yet the fire within it suffocates my heart and burns my soul. I have slain wolves, bears, dolphins, men, women, giants, serpents, extraterrestrials, among others. Their riches and wares have satiated my hunger this long, but now I am a twenty five year old man, hungry for the ultimate prize: _him_. I have studied him, I have read of him, and I shall be rid of him. I know of his exploits and adventures how he takes the doom with him wherever he goes whilst presumably 'caring for the innocent.' I know how he defeated the bounty hunters- Boris the legendary Russian Juggernaut, I and Am the deadly feline assassins, The British Gentleman who embraced Victorian elegance and honor, and Princess Mira the deadly vice-regent of Andaluvia, a people known for fierce fighting ability. She was actually on our list for the dome for violating Aku's quota for statues. Aku rightly enslaved her rebellious filth, and we would have enslaved her to prevent her from securing the ransom she needs to liberate those ignorant imbeciles she calls kin.

Regardless, I know how Jack single handily defeated them. I was on his trail at the time and I found their bodies scattered amidst the frigid snow. From that alone I deduced that he sliced through the cats before they could take away his sword as per the chains their corpses were wrapped in. The gentleman's pierced cloak was nearby and his daggers not far after. Jack avoided both the concealment and the weapon, and the gentleman foolishly failed to prepare a back-up plan- or wear any armor- for that matter and so he rightly met his doom. Moreover, Jujunga the African bounty hunter's dart was found in him, so it is likely that it afflicted Boris as well. The cats countered with a flurry of bombs that he hurled at the Russian, blowing him into tiny pieces while he was paralyzed by Jujunga's poison- Friendly Fire! All that survived of him was the Tsarist crown on his head. The cat was cut into two in a much similar fashion to Khanees' first death. Lastly, the princess was decapitated after she brought a stick to sword-fight.

Hopefully now, you understand just how well-versed I am in the Samurai's skill. I know how he thinks, I know what he feels, and I know _where he is_. He was last seen not far from my village allegedly rescuing a baby from a gang of marauders- marauders he created! Though he rescued no one from anything. The child's mother complained to the local paper that Jack had indoctrinated her boy and he had a lust for violence now more than ever. Jack turned a peace loving little boy into another rabble rouser like himself. One of his ilk is more than enough!

Esteemed Academy, I have gone on longer than necessary to prove my point. Had it been me to have arranged an ambush I would have taken a much simpler route. We need men far stronger, far more capable than Boris. We need a man with the strength of Kayj, the vitality potion of the sorceress, and the brute force of Colossus. He needs to have the swordsmanship of Khanees and this combination is quite rare. Seventeen years of my nomadic lifestyle has given me no worthy candidates. Moreover, Jack would need a reason to throw his life away. A reason worth risking life and death. We must prepare an illusory time portal. One that looks and sounds like a time portal, but isn't really- a mirror image if you will.

But what if such a man could be created? What if a certain blue elixir can be perfected? It pleases me to write to you that I have reestablished contact with my brother the Elixirman's boy. I am even prouder to say that he shares my hatred of Samurai Jack- the man who killed _both_ his fathers. In fact this letter is his idea. He has encouraged me to take matters into my own hands and end this, and so I have for you a proposition:

Enroll me into your sword-fighting, gun-firing, beast-mastery, mixed martial arts, melee combat program—'The Agoge Program'. There I will be your obedient student for seven years. Seven years hence, the elixirman's boy shall inject me with his perfected regenerative _blue_ serum. Then, we shall find someplace secluded and legendary and enlist the help of your contacts and my knowledge to predict where Samurai Jack is headed and lure him into our lair. There, I shall end him once and for all!

To this end I have attached 10,000 Aku Credits to this letter as a gesture of good faith.

Kindest Regards,

Prometheus Augustus.


End file.
